


Skyrim: Awakening

by googleduckuments



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Multi, pretty much all the fe:a characters as well as some from skyrim but like hell im tagging them all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/googleduckuments/pseuds/googleduckuments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a scouting mission in the swamps outside Solitude, Chrom and co. come across an oddly-dressed stranger who claims to not know who they are or where they came from. But when civil war breaks out in Skyrim, it becomes apparent that fate has big plans for Robyn... whoever they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. South of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> I'm essentially just posting this to gauge whether or not there's actually an audience for it, given that, well... it's highly self-indulgent crossover fanfiction. So, if you read this and like it, please leave kudos or some other indication, so I can know whether or not I'm just yelling at the void.

The first thing they were aware of was being very, very cold. They shifted to the side uncomfortably, registering something gently grabbing their arm and jostling them again, which was what had woken them up.

"What are we gonna do?" said a high-pitched voice to their right. "We can't just leave them here."

Finally, they mustered the drive to open their eyes. The sky above them was dim and cloudy, and they registered three faces hovering above them, looking concerned.

"Oh!" said the same voice, which they could now see belonged to an Imperial girl in apprentice mage robes, with bright blonde hair pulled up in pigtails and a gold and ruby circlet on her brow. She down beamed at them. "Hey there!" she said gently.

Another voice spoke, drawing their attention to their other side. "There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," said a man with silvery-black hair, who was also an Imperial. He was dressed in fine glass armor, and also had a circlet, although his was silver and sapphire. He held out a hand to help them up, which they took gratefully, eager to be off the cold, hard ground of... wherever this was. As they did, they noticed some kind of symbol lizard-like tattooed on the back of their right hand in black ink.

Blessedly, they got to their feet without any trouble. Then, the third member of the party addressed them. 

"State your name and business, stranger," said a man in heavy steel armor, older than the other two but also an Imperial, with neat brown hair and a wary hand on the pommel of the Dwemer sword at his hip.

They paused, looking down at themselves. They saw they were wearing some kind of odd black and purple robe that felt enchanted, with light leather armor on their wrists and feet, and a simple silver ring on their left index finger, which also seemed to have an enchantment of some kind on it. Strapped to their belt was a simple steel sword. They looked helplessly back up at the man.

"Honestly, I'm not actually sure who I am, or what I'm doing here," they said, frowning.

The man's eyes narrowed, but he was cut off from speaking by the girl. "Ohh, I've heard of this! It's amnesia!"

"It's trickery, is what it is," the man in the heavy armor scoffed. "For all we know, they could be some kind of assassin, trying to win Your Highnesses' trust. What manner of elf are you, anyway?"

"Now, Frederick, give the poor soul a break. They're obviously confused," scolded the younger man. He then turned to them, his face shifting to a sheepish smile. "Pardon Frederick's paranoia- you may be dressed a little strangely, but you don't seem dangerous to me. My name's Chrom."

"And I'm Lissa, his sister!" said the blonde girl cheerfully. "This place is Hjallmarch hold, in the country of Skyrim."

They nodded respectfully, then blinked as they recalled something. "My name's Robyn- funny, I just remembered that. I apologize that I can't identify myself further, but I promise that I don't mean you any harm." 

As they stood there in silence for a moment, Robyn took stock of what they did, somehow, know about themself. They could fight with a sword, and also knew a variety of magic. As race went, they were half Imperial, half Dunmer, although they remembered nothing about their parents.

"I still have a bad feeling about this," Frederick said quietly to Chrom, frowning.

Chrom gave him a gentle shove. "Oh, hush, Frederick the Wary. Well, Robyn, if you don't remember where you're from, I can hardly leave you here in good conscience. We were just finishing with our patrol- why don't you come back to Solitude with us?"

"I would greatly appreciate the help," Robyn said gratefully. "Solitude is a city, then?"

Chrom motioned for the group to start moving, and pointed to indicate a cliff visible in the distance, a large, walled city built atop it. "Yes, it's just over there- the capital city of Skyrim."

As they walked across the cold swampland, Robyn learned that Chrom and Lissa were the younger siblings of the High Queen of Skyrim, Emmeryn, and Frederick was their bodyguard.

"So what were you all doing out here, then?" Robyn asked Chrom.

"Well, Emm's been getting reports of some odd things happening out here, and sent us out to investigate."

Robyn raised an eyebrow. "Odd things like what?"

"Odd things like- well, like that," said Chrom, abruptly lowering his voice midsentence and pointing into the distance, where, a few hundred yards away, what looked like a small group of soldiers was trekking through the swamp.

"Who're they?" whispered Lissa, brow furrowed with slight worry.

Frederick shook his head. "I've never seen uniforms like that before."

Robyn squinted, trying to get a better look. There seemed to be four or five in all, dressed in chain mail, with red leather cuirasses and domed helmets that completely obscured their faces. Most had heavy-looking battleaxes and warhammers strapped to their backs, while one or two were armed with maces and steel shields.

Their little group looked on a moment more, uncertain, before Chrom straightened up, seeming to come to a decision. "Well, they don't look like bandits, and I think that Emm would prefer it if we attempted diplomacy before getting into a fight."

"A wise decision, milord," Frederick said sagely, "Especially given that we're greatly outnumbered."

"Just to be cautious, though," Chrom added, turning to Robyn, "Can you fight, Robyn?"

Robyn shrugged. "I'd imagine I can. I'm also pretty sure that besides this sword, I can use magic, as well."

Chrom cracked a small smile. "Perhaps I'll just stay a few steps away from you for starters, then."

Lissa giggled at that, but Frederick just looked on sternly. "Milord, shouldn't we make our approach before they get too much farther? We ought to intercept before they get too close to Morthal."

"Oh, yes, good idea, Frederick," said Chrom, turning back around. "Let's go, then."

As Chrom led on, Frederick, Lissa and Robyn approached the small squad. As soon as they got close enough and it was evident that they hadn't been noticed yet, Chrom hailed them.

"Ho there! What business have you in this hold?"

The soldiers all turned, looking alarmed at first, then confused, as they saw the odd assortment that was approaching them. Then, one of the soldiers' eyebrows flew up in recognition.

"Men! That's the Queen's brother and sister!"

Robyn couldn't tell whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that they had recognized Chrom and Lissa at first, but they weren't given much time to wonder before the soldiers drew their weapons.

"Let's send our lovely Queen a message, eh, boys? We ain't gonna stand for a ruler that's in bed with those damn elves!"

Robyn wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but then Chrom and Frederick drew their weapons as the soldiers charged, and some sort of instinct from whatever their life had been previously kicked in. Their right hand drew their sword in an easy, fluid motion, and an Ebonyflesh spell burst to life in their other, and was then swiftly replaced with a humming, golden Close Wounds spell as one of the enemy soldiers charged at them, warhammer raised. They danced backward, avoiding the first heavy-handed swing, then darted in, slashing at the shoulder seam where chain mail met leather. They were dimly aware of Chrom fending off another soldier a few feet away. Lissa, as well, was fighting, but the destruction spells she was wielding were weak and obviously unpracticed.

A fourth soldier fell swiftly under Frederick's obvious skill as Robyn, as well, weathered a hit to their shoulder in order to gain an opening and sink their sword into their enemy's gut. As she gurgled in agony and fell, Robyn charged up their healing spell, feeling the pain in their shoulder diminish as they whirled to assess what was left of the enemy.

Chrom had managed to take down the soldier he was facing, but blood was seeping from several of the joints in his armor. Lissa was worse off, stumbling backwards and trying in vain to avoid blows from a mace, her magicka having apparently run out. Frederick had dispatched one last soldier and was making to run to her aid, but it was evident he wouldn't be fast enough.

Without even really processing what they were doing, Robyn dropped their sword, and used their right hand to send a vicious lighting spell right into the chest of Lissa's opponent. The man froze for a moment... then collapsed to the ground, Lissa following suit as her legs gave out.

"Lissa!" Chrom cried in horror, limping to her side as she lay on the mossy ground, breathing heavily, her face twisted in pain. He knelt beside her, rummaging frantically through his pockets and quickly producing a potion in a small red bottle. He held it gingerly to her lips and she drank, but it didn't seem to have much effect.

"Blast, I wasn't expecting to run into this much trouble! That's all I have!" he shouted, looking around in panic.

Robyn remembered something else, then. "Let me," they said, approaching Lissa from the other side and readying another spell.

Chrom looked on fretfully as they knelt snd placed both of their hands on Lissa's stomach, a Heal Other spell flowing from each of their hands and into her. As Lissa sucked in a relieved breath, Chrom sat back on his heels, stunned.

"You saved her," he breathed, looking Robyn in the eye.

Taken aback, they averted their eyes, taking their hands away from Lissa and folding them awkwardly in their lap. Frederick stepped up, then, and held their sword out to them. They took it, thanking him, then turned to look at Chrom again, remembering he was wounded as well.

"I can heal you too, if you'd like," they offered, feeling their magicka regenerating much faster now that they weren't in the heat of battle.

Chrom nodded gratefully, seeming to only just then realize how much pain he was in, himself. "Well, if it isn't too much trouble, I'd appreciate it, yes."

As Lissa shakily sat up, Robyn shuffled closer to Chrom, their pale gray hands glowing with magic yet again.

Once Chrom was healed, he stood somewhat unsteadily, Frederick stepping in to allow Lissa to lean on him as she got to her feet as well. Robyn also got to their feet, dusting off their robes and returning their sword to its sheath.

"Emm will want to hear about this immediately," Chrom said as they started walking again. "I don't know who those dastards were, but it's obvious they have it out for Emm, and I'd imagine there's a whole lot more of them."

\-------

The sun was starting to get low in the sky, dying the overcasting clouds shades of orange and pink, as they reached the gates of Solitude. The Khajit merchants had their tents set up and were advertising their wares, and two armored guards stood, one on each side of the tall wooden door. Frederick went ahead to push open the way for them, and they entered the city.

Robyn looked around in awe- spread out before them was a beautiful city, the buildings made of blocks of dark gray-blue stone and the roads made of even tiles of tan rock. Beyond the main business district, a castle that seemed to be part of the city's walls themselves was visible, towering above everything else around it.

Chrom turned and grinned at Robyn, seemingly proud of the reaction the city had incited from them. "Welcome to Solitude!" he proclaimed. "This here is where all the shops are. The big building over there to the left is Castle Dour, headquarters of Skyrim's army. To the other side is the residential district, and on the far side of the city is where Lissa, Emmeryn and I live- the Blue Palace."

As Chrom continued to lead them down the street, Frederick gave him yet another concerned look. "You aren't seriously thinking of bringing this stranger to the Palace, are you?" he asked, seeming horrified at the mere thought.

Chrom gave Frederick a pointed look that Lissa giggled at. "Are you honestly still saying stuff like that, after they saved Lissa's life? If they meant to kill us, they'd have done it out there in the swamps when we were injured. Besides, if anyone will know how to help them, it'll be Emm."

Frederick shook his head wearily, knowing he was beaten. "I merely advise caution, milord- these are dangerous times."

The streets leading up to the Blue Palace were lined with flowering plants- dragon's tongue, blue mountain flowers, and nightshade- and the water rushing through city's plumbing system could be heard through circular grates laid into the cobblestone. Overhead, hawks wheeled in the sky, occasionally landing in nests built high in the ramparts.

The courtyard of the Palace was also full of flowers, and Robyn looked around with interest, itching to pick some for alchemy ingredients, as Chrom greeted the guard at the door.

"Good afternoon, Stahl," he called, "Is Emm still holding court?"

The guard waved cheerfully, removing his helmet to reveal a mess of curly brown hair and bright green eyes set in tanned Nord features. "Afternoon, Prince Chrom! Yep, she is, but not many people have come thr- gods, what happened to you lot? And who's the stranger?"

Chrom chuckled a little at his reaction. "This is Robyn- we found them passed out in the swamps and they helped us fight off some ruffians. Robyn, this is Stahl, one of the best guards we have."

Stahl averted his eyes, blushing slightly at the praise. "Well, go on in... although just so you know, Virion's in there."

Lissa groaned loudly at that, and Chrom nudged her gently, muttering, "Be polite."

"Who's Virion?" Robyn asked, confused.

Stahl chuckled. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he said ominously, putting his helmet back on.

As soon as they entered the Palace, Robyn indeed got a very good idea of who, exactly, Virion was.

"I would ask you to keep in mind, Miss Emmeryn, that this is not an alliance of necessity formed between rival nations!" an imperious, slightly nasal voice was saying. "The Thalmor are here to make sure that the conditions your father agreed to to prevent your total annihilation are being upheld, and I expect to see results!"

Robyn looked at Chrom, eyebrow raised, and saw that he was grimacing slightly. Before the man could continue his rant, Chrom called, "Emm, we're back, and we bear important news!" up to the balcony that presumably held the royal court.

"Oh!" said a voice that sounded like a milder version of Lissa's. "Do come up!"

Chrom led the way up a curving set of stairs to the second floor balcony. There, perched on a simple throne, was a woman who looked to be in her late twenties, with long, golden hair, wearing a silver and emerald circlet on her brow and a set of fine, pale green robes decorated with detailed silver embroidery. Upon seeing her siblings, High Queen Emmeryn smiled, and Robyn was struck by the feeling of peace that seemed to radiate from her.

The one person seemingly unaffected by this was an Altmer man in black and gold robes, glaring at the new arrivals as if their very presence was an affront to him. Beside him stood another Altmer, dressed in full Elven armor, with long, red hair visible under her helmet.

Emmeryn spoke to Virion next, saying, "Virion, I understand your concerns, but please believe that I am enforcing the ban on Talos worship to the best of my ability. We can certainly speak more on the subject later if you have any other ideas, but for right now, I need to hear Chrom's report, now that he's returned from his scouting mission."

Virion huffed, but understood the underlying meaning of Emmeryn's words- "get the hell out." With an indignant toss of his long hair, he strode from the room, the footsoldier following behind him.

With them gone, Emmeryn turned her attention back to Chrom and Lissa, motioning for them to come closer. Robyn followed hesitantly behind them, unsure of how they should be acting in this situation.

"Well, what news?" Emmeryn asked. "And who is this with you?"

Chrom cleared his throat. "Well, the patrol was going normally until we spotted somebody lying unconscious on one of the islands in the swamp. This is them- their name is Robyn, and they say they don't know who they are or where they came from."

"All right... and why do you all look like you got into a fight?"

"There were these weird soldiers!" Lissa exclaimed. "We've never seen anybody dressed like them before, but when they recognized us, they attacked us!"

Emmeryn's eyes widened, and her hands gripped tighter to the arms of her throne. "They attacked you because they recognized you as royalty?"

"I fear so, Milady," said Frederick. "They had some rather choice words to say on the matter of Your Highness's ... diplomatic strategies, which I would rather not repeat."

Chrom nodded. "Suffice it to say that if we hadn't had Robyn with us, we would've been in serious trouble. As it stands, they fought against them as well as any of us, and saved Lissa's life besides when she was badly injured."

That shifted Emmeryn's gaze to Robyn, who shifted uncomfortably. "If what Chrom says is true, I am truly in your debt, Robyn."

"It was really just a bit of restoration magic, Milady," they said quietly, fiddling with their ring.

"Just a bit?!" Lissa shouted, looking at them incredulously. "I had no idea it was possible to heal someone as fast as you healed me!"

Robyn smiled wryly. "Well, certainly can't tell you where I learned how- pretty much everything I know how to do is as surprising to me as it is to anyone."

"Well, I'll get a more detailed report on this new threat from you three later," said Emmeryn, sounding like a true leader again. "In the meantime, Robyn, you are welcome to stay in the Blue Palace for a few nights if you wish. If you are looking for ways to regain your memory, I would recommend visiting the Temple of the Divines, or the Bards' College- in the morning, of course. For now, it's getting awfully late. Frederick, would you tell Stahl that court is adjourned for today?"

"Of course, Milady," Frederick said, bowing and leaving the room.

"Oh, and Chrom," Emmeryn added, "Would you show Robyn where the spare bedroom is?"

Chrom nodded. "Here, it's this way."


	2. On Lost Memories And Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a few more Fire Embem characters make their appearance, as well as this story's main antagonist.

Robyn was awoken the next morning by the sun shining in their eyes and the smell of freshly-baked sweet rolls, and it took them a moment of great confusion before they remembered what had happened the previous day.

Deciding not to dwell too long on the fact that, despite the vain hopes they'd held, a night's sleep hadn't brought back any of their memories, they sat up in the almost unnecessarily comfortable bed and looked around.

At that moment, the door opened, and Lissa poked her head in. "Oh! You're awake!" she exclaimed. "Come on out when you're ready, there's breakfast stuff in the kitchen."

Breakfast turned out to be quite an affair, to be expected from the royal capital, they supposed. Chrom, Emmeryn, and Frederick were already seated at the long dining table, as well as a boyish-faced Bosmer with red hair, dressed in blue mage robes.

Chrom saw them enter and waved. "Morning, Robyn! Sleep well?"

The Bosmer looked up from the venison he'd been tucking into. "Oh, is this the elf you were talking about?" he asked, pointing at Robyn with his fork and turning to Chrom.

"Oh, yes. Robyn, this is Ricken," he said, motioning to the Bosmer. "He's Emm's new court mage. I've already filled him in on our... adventures yesterday."

Ricken grinned lopsidedly. "Pleased to meetcha! Chrom says you're a dab hand with magic, too."

"Er, yes, I suppose I am," said Robyn, taking a seat in between Lissa and Ricken.

As they started taking bites of an apple, Lissa turned to them. "So, are you going out today, to see if someone can help you get your memory back?"

Robyn nodded. "I was thinking of trying the temple first. These robes I'm wearing seem like they could be religious somehow, so they might know something about that."

"All right! I could go with you if you like, y'know, to help you find your way around," Lissa offered, looking hopefully first at Robyn, then at Emmeryn, who smiled slightly, bemused.

"I suppose there's no reason why not," she conceded. "Just be careful- we're still not sure who sent those soldiers who attacked you yesterday."

"Oh, relax," Lissa scoffed. "This is the safest city in all of Skyrim! What could they possibly do here?"

\------------

After breakfast, Lissa led Robyn out into the city, and into the courtyard of Castle Dour. 

Amidst the noise of all the soldiers practicing their archery and swordfighting, she shouted, "The Temple of the Divines is just in there! I'm going to go say hi to Phila- just come on in to the castle when you're done."

With a wave, Lissa disappeared through the door to the main building of Castle Dour, leaving Robyn to follow her directions to, sure enough, the Temple of the Divines.

Once they were inside, the sounds of the training soldiers was reduced to almost nothing in the hushed solemnity of the temple. Oddly, Robyn was struck with a feeling of being out of place there, but continued inside anyway, looking around.

On either side of the center aisle were small pews, with potted plants in rounded alcoves, and a few people sitting, hands folded in prayer. The far end of the church held a curved wall, with nine pedestals evenly spaced along it- but, strangely, only eight had shrines on them. At the end of the aisle stood a pretty Altmer, her pale blonde hair loosely tied up, dressed in a simple brown robe. Mustering up a little courage, Robyn approached her.

"Excuse me," they said quietly, "Are you a priestess here?"

She smiled gently, noting their visible awkwardness. "Yes, I am the high priestess of the divines. My name is Tiki. Have you come seeking guidance, child?"

"Um... sort of," Robyn said. "You see, I seem to have lost almost all of my memory, and I was wondering if you knew of anything that could help me get it back."

Tiki regarded them silently for a moment, a look of sympathy on her face. "Well... now that I am thinking of it, I have heard that many people in Dawnstar have been having nightmares, and losing parts of their memories, as well. I believe there is a priest of Mara who has been sent there to provide healing- he may be able to help you. Of course, you may also pray at the shrines here for guidance- the Divines hear every prayer."

"All right," said Robyn, nodding slowly. "I haven't had any nightmares, but that's worth a try. Thank you."

"I am glad to have helped," Tiki replied.

"Oh, and one more thing- do you recognize these robes? They're what I was wearing when I woke up, and they're my only solid clue so far towards who I am."

Tiki frowned and took a step back, studying them. After several long moments, she looked back up at them. "I confess, I do not know what these designs mean- I have never seen their like before, I apologize."

"That's all right," said Robyn, "Thank you for your help, anyway."

The priestess nodded. "Divines bless you, child."

Eager to get out of the strange atmosphere of the Temple, Robyn hurried out, and headed to Castle Dour, where Lissa said she'd be.

Sure enough, they found her in a room just off the main entry hall, with a large map of Skyrim on a wooden table in the middle of it. Lissa was standing at one side of the table, and opposite her was a rather imposing Nord woman with blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun and a mole under one eye, dressed in steel armor that seemed to be an officer's version of the guards' outfits.

"Oh! Hi, Robyn!" said Lissa cheerfully, noticing them enter.

The woman, presumably the "Phila" that Lissa said she was going to see, regarded them curiously. "Lissa, who is this?"

"Oh, this is Robyn! You know, that person we found in the swamps?"

"Oh yes, right." Phila nodded. Robyn was wondering if they'd ever be anyone other than "that person Chrom found in the swamp" again. "My name's Phila- I'm the commander of Skyrim's military forces."

Robyn's eyebrows shot up. "Lissa, when you told me you were going to talk to someone, I didn't know you meant you meant someone like this! Please tell me there isn't a war going on right now."

Phila shook her head, chuckling. "Lissa's no bother, honestly. And no, there isn't a war right now, fortunately- we nearly didn't make it through the last one."

"I'm afraid given my condition I don't know what you're talking about," said Robyn, frowning, "but I'm glad to hear it."

"Oh, Robyn!" Lissa cut in, "There was someone else I wanted to introduce you to- and we can get you some new clothes while we're at it."

Saying their goodbyes to Phila, they left Castle Dour. Lissa led the way through a different archway from the one they'd entered from, past a blacksmith's shop and down a ramp, and into the business district. Soon, they reached a building close to the city gates, with a sign reading "Radiant Rainment."

"Helloooo, Maribelle!" yelled Lissa, throwing open the door.

"Lissa, my treasure? Is that you?" called a voice from inside, with a thick Elven accent.

Robyn stepped into the building just in time to see a slender Altmer in a pale pink dress come dashing from behind the counter, tightly curled hair flying out behind her, and wrap her arms tightly around Lissa.

"Oh, Lissa, darling, it's so good to see you! And- oh, who is this?" Maribelle's voice suddenly turned slightly colder as she noticed Robyn standing in the foyer, pulling away from Lissa.

"This is Robyn! It's a long story how they ended up here, but they've only got this weird robe to wear- no offense, Robyn, but it is kinda weird- and so I figured you could help!" said Lissa cheerfully, evidently either unaware of or ignoring Maribelle's sudden shift in attitude.

Maribelle snorted. "Well, good clothes aren't free, but for Lissa's sake, I'm sure I could manage a- good gods, what is that racket outside?"

Robyn frowned, turning slightly towards the door. Sure enough, Maribelle was right- it sounded as though a lot of people were shouting outside.

"Let me go look," they volunteered, somewhat eager to escape Maribelle's glare.

However, they soon almost wished they hadn't.

Outside was a standoff- a small group of Solitude city guards on one side, and a group of soldiers in uniforms identical to those worn by the soldiers who had attacked them in the swamps on the other. Standing at the head of the group of red-clad soldiers was a Nord man, abnormally tall and broad-shouldered, clad in ebony armor with accents in the same red as his soldiers' uniforms.

"Stand down!" he said in a booming voice. "I am Walhart, jarl of Eastmarch, and I seek audience with the High Queen!"

Robyn looked back over their shoulder, and from the look on Lissa's face, she'd seen and heard everything too. Upon looking out to the street again, they watched in horror as the Solitude guards warily parted to allow the man and his soldiers in.

Suddenly, they realized that something had to be done now, or it would already be too late.

They turned back inside. "Lissa, stay here and keep the door shut. I'm going to run ahead and warn Queen Emmeryn."

"W-what?!" Lissa protested. "But I can't just-"

"Stay here! If those soldiers see you, they might attack you like they did last time! But they won't recognize me. Okay?"

"Okay," Lissa nodded reluctantly.

Slipping out of Radiant Rainment and shutting the door firmly behind them, Robyn glanced around for a route that could get them to the Blue Palace before Walhart and his men. Seeing nothing, they wracked what little they knew about themself for any other way.

Then, an idea struck. Charging up an invisibilty spell, they dashed down the street.

\----------

"I'm telling you, Emm, it has to be someone in the East. It can't be Falkreath because they're too small, it can't be the Reach because they already have enough to worry about with the Forsworn, and it can't be Whiterun because it's too central a location."

Emmeryn nodded, acknowledging Chrom's reasoning. "I doubt it's the Rift, as well, and it certainly can't be here... Hjallmarch is too close to the capital, the Pale is too sparsely populated."

Chrom's brow furrowed. "Well, it certainly can't be Winterhold, which leaves-"

"Your majesty!" a voice shouted from downstairs, accompanied by the sound of a door slamming open.

Chrom stood up from his seat in the throne room. "Robyn? Is something wrong?"

Robyn dashed up the stairs, deactivating their invisibility spell as they went. Struggling for breath, they reached the top, pointing frantically in the direction of the door.

"Those soldiers... they're here! And there's some... big Nord leading them... said he was the jarl of someplace called-"

"Eastmarch," Chrom growled, drawing his sword. "Just as we guessed. How close are they to reaching the palace?"

"Not far- I ran as fast as I could but they're almost here. The guards let them in because he's a jarl seeking audience with the Queen."

"Where's Lissa?!" Emmeryn cried. "Wasn't she with you?"

"She's hiding in Radiant Rainment with her friend there- I told her to stay put because the soldiers might recognize her otherwise."

Emmeryn and Chrom both sighed in relief. Robyn looked around the throne room- only those two were there. It seemed that court had been cancelled for the day to allow them to discuss yesterday's attack.

"At least there's that," said Chrom. "But what are we going to do?"

Emmeryn straightened herself in her throne. "If he claims to be seeking audience, then we shall let him in and see what he has to say."

"But Emm, his soldiers tried to kill us!" Chrom protested. "You can't possibly just-"

"What proof have we that those weren't just deserters looking to cause trouble?" Emmeryn cut him off. "We cannot jump to conclusions in matters like these- after all, it's possible he's coming to apologize for the soldiers' actions."

Chrom still looked anxious, however. "That still wouldn't explain why he suddenly seems to have a private army."

Emmeryn looked pensive for a moment. "Very well. Chrom, go and get Frederick, and tell him to give word to Phila to have the guards on alert, just in case. And Robyn... you stay here."

Robyn nodded, despite being incredibly bewildered. Chrom looked confused as well, but agreed and dashed downstairs.

Robyn turned to face Emmeryn. "Your highness, why-"

Emmeryn looked them in the eye, her face unreadable. "From Chrom and Frederick's reports, I have reason to believe that you are a formidable fighter, whether or not you yet have a full grasp of who you are. Additionally... if there is trouble, I would prefer it if only one member of the royal family was in danger."

Robyn frowned, but nodded.

However, anything they would have liked to say in reply was interrupted by the door opening again, and Stahl yelling, "Er, Your Majesty, Jarl Walhart's here to see you!"

Robyn took a deep breath and positioned themself standing near where Chrom had been moments before, to Emmeryn's left.

"You may enter!" said Emmeryn, poised on her throne and looking every inch a queen.

And so, up the stairs came Walhart, flanked by what looked like about a dozen soldiers, armed similarly to the group from the attack in the swamp.

"Greetings, Jarl Walhart," said Emmeryn cooly. "For what reason have you come seeking audience?"

"No small reason, I assure you," the man rumbled, a strange glint in his eyes, which were a paler blue than what was normal for a Nord. "You see, many citizens of Skyrim, especially we Nords, have been... less than pleased with Your Highness's leadership. Not only are you merely a halfbreed Nord leading a Nordic country, your father sold us out to the Dominion, and you have done nothing to change his policies."

Emmeryn's face remained neutral. "Yes, I am aware that Skyrim has many problems, and also that many consider me to blame for those problems. However, no one has come forth with an alternate method of assuring the safety of Skyrim's citizens from Aldmeri forces. Am I to assume that you have come with a new solution?"

Walhart snorted. "Why yes, in fact, I have."

Warily, Robyn shifted their hand to the hilt of their sword.

"High Queen Emmeryn, in keeping with Nord custom, I challenge you to a duel for the throne- to the death."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to any fans of Ulfric Stormcloak out there, but I'm not a particular fan of him myself, so here we are.


	3. Emmeryn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot starts really moving, and a lot of really bad stuff happens, but some good stuff happens too.

To her credit, Emmeryn was remaining remarkably calm, not once breaking eye contact with Walhart as she rose from her seat.

Robyn drew their sword, glancing warily back and forth between the two, but Emmeryn held a hand up.

"Please do not interfere, Robyn. He is correct- it is within his rights to challenge me."

Helplessly, they returned the weapon to its sheath- but they kept their hand readied on the hilt. Out of the corner of their eye, they spotted motion- Ricken was peeking nervously around the corner of one of the upstairs halls.

Emmeryn strode forward, spells readied in her hands, but she was visibly shaking. "Jarl Walhart, I accept your challenge."

Robyn's mind was racing. Emmeryn had told them not to intervene, and they didn't want to mess with traditions they didn't know anything about, but it was obvious she was outmatched. Would Chrom and Lissa forgive them if they just let her die? Would they be able to defeat Walhart, even if they attempted to?

Time seemed to slow as Emmeryn placed an armor spell on herself, and Walhart drew an impressive-looking greatsword from where it was strapped to his back.

"May the most worthy leader win," he growled.

Emmeryn dodged Walhart's first swing, taking advantage of the fact that the bigger a weapon was, the slower it was. While he readied for another swing, she lobbed a fireball at him, but it hardly had any effect. He brought the sword down, and she tried again to dodge... but she was too slow. The blade slammed hard into her shoulder, and she cried out in agony, blood pouring from the wound and staining her robes. Walhart's soldiers cheered.

Then, everything happened at once. Emmeryn fell to the ground, struggling to cast a healing spell with her remaining useable hand. Walhart lifted his sword high for one final swing. Robyn cringed in horror. From somewhere behind the soldiers amassed by the stairs, someone shouted, "YOUR MAJESTY!"

But Phila was too late. Walhart pointed the sword downwards and plunged it into Emmeryn's chest, killing her instantly. Robyn was paralyzed- unable to bring themself to look at her body, they watched as Walhart drew his sword back up again to face the general, the soldiers parting to allow her through.

Obviously not about to give him any chance to explain himself, Phila knocked an arrow on an Elven bow and let it fly. However, it just bounced harmlessly off Walhart's armor.

"Your queen is already dead, fool!" he roared, advancing on Phila. "Do you wish to die as well?!"

Phila did not back down. "You have committed treason of the most despicable kind, and I will bring you to justice!" she snarled, abandoning her bow in favor of the glass sword at her hip.

Robyn wanted to say something, to tell her to run, but they had already realized that they were badly outmatched and outnumbered- although Walhart alone could have easily killed them, and it was honestly a miracle that he hadn't. Stepping in now would be little more than a pointless suicide.

And so, they watched. Watched as Phila was struck down, just like Emmeryn. Watched as Walhart took one backwards look at them, smirked, then called to his soldiers that they were leaving.

And they watched as Chrom dashed back into the Blue Palace, only to find the dead bodies of the the leader of Skyrim's military... and that of his sister. With Robyn standing next to her, not a single scratch on them.

Robyn couldn't remember ever having been close to someone, let alone having lost them, and so they couldn't possibly imagine the kind of pain that would make someone like Chrom, who, in the short time they'd known him, had only ever been upbeat and determined, fall weakly to his knees, horror and grief twisting his features.

"Chrom, I'm so sorry-" Robyn said quietly, although whether it was to console him or to apologize for their powerlessness, they didn't know.

Chrom just shook his head, unable to speak.

And so they were silent for a few minutes, powerless again- this time in the face of unimaginable grief, rather than danger.

Then, Chrom spoke, although it was soft and broken, and he did not raise his head.

"Go to Lissa. Tell her what happened, but... don't let her see this. Tell Stahl to not let anybody in other than you or Frederick."

"Of course," said Robyn, and they quickly exited.

\--------------

The guards, it seemed, had learned too late what had transpired, and Walhart and his soldiers were already long gone- and with the leader of the military dead, it was obvious little would be done at the moment to track them down.

In Radiant Rainment, Robyn broke the news to Lissa as well as they knew how. She stared at them silently for a moment before burying her face in Maribelle's shoulder and sobbing. Maribelle rubbed her back, making soft shushing noises, and looking at Robyn in a way that indicated that they should leave.

Out on the streets of Solitude, it was obvious that word had gotten out of what had happened. The city was eerily quiet, and no one but the guards were outside. A couple of them had noticed Robyn leave the building and looked at them oddly, but said nothing.

Figuring it was really the only thing they could do at that point, Robyn made the trip back to the Blue Palace.

Frederick had returned at that point, and looked a little shaken but was organizing getting the throne room cleaned up. There was a priest there, presumably to carry out the proper rites for the bodies, and Ricken had emerged from his room and was sitting on one of the benches off to the side, looking troubled. Chrom was nowhere to be seen.

Noticing them standing there, Frederick called Robyn over.

"Robyn," he said, sounding as though he was attempting, but not quite managing, to sound placating, "Prince Chrom told me that you witnessed the deaths of Queen Emmeryn and General Phila. Is this correct?"

"Yes," Robyn nodded, trying to decipher his tone.

"Would you mind telling me what happened?"

Taking a deep breath, Robyn began to tell the story- starting with going out into the city with Lissa and ending with the present.

Frederick remained silent throughout, and for a long moment afterwards, staring at nothing as he thought. Then, he let out a little "hmm" noise, and looked at them again. "I do hope you realize that, being a mysterious stranger who coincidentally happened to witness two attacks on Skyrim's royal family, being the sole witness to one save for a group of conspirators who, for some reason, left only you alive- well, let us just say that it would be very, very easy to cast a great amount of suspicion on you right now."

Robyn frowned, but nodded- they'd realized the same thing themself.

"They didn't do anything!" Ricken suddenly exclaimed, jumping to his feet and startling both Frederick and Robyn. "I saw- well, at least I heard, everything! And Robyn never said a word to Walhart- they're telling the truth, I swear it!"

Robyn couldn't help but smile a little, both out of gratefulness and because of the little Bosmer's enthusiasm.

Frederick hummed again, this time staring at Ricken for a moment. Then, he turned back towards Robyn. "Well, that certainly helps things. At the very least, we can concentrate now on tracking Walhart's movements, rather than having to waste any time interrogating you." He smiled, then, in a way that may have been meant to be reassuring, but Robyn just shivered slightly.

"Wait a minute..." Ricken cut in again, looking confused. "Doesn't this mean Chrom's the king now?"

Frederick sighed and shook his head. "While it does mean he is now the jarl of Solitude- unless he steps down, of course, which would be entirely understandable- Skyrim tradition holds that when the High King or Queen dies, the jarls must hold a moot to elect a new one."

Then it was Robyn's turn to be confused. "But Walhart said that if someone challenges the ruler and wins, they take the throne. Was he lying?"

"No, not necessarily," said Frederick. "But the way he went about this... he did not follow any sort of precedent. From the way you told it, it sounds like he walked in, killed the High Queen and General while they were caught off-guard, and walked right back out again. That's not a challenge- that's an act of war."

Frederick paused for a moment, and his calm, official façade seemed to slip for a moment. "The way I see it, all there is to do now is attempt to regroup and prevent the country from dissolving into utter chaos- we need to get a jarl on the trone, whether it's Chrom or someone else, we need to get someone to take charge of the army, and, above all, we need to show the citizens of Skyrim that while we may have been forced to bow in some respects, we are not a force to be trifled with by rebels who think they know how to handle politics better than we do."

Robyn decided it would be best not to ask who remained for Frederick to be referring to when he said "we."

\------------

On the day of Emmeryn's funeral, it rained.

There had been some disagreement over what should be done with her body, because she hadn't left a will. But Chrom quietly said that since it was misplaced Nord pride that had killed her, it would be disrespectful to cremate her like one.

So, the High Queen's casket was carried in a slow procession down the street leading from the Blue Palace, ending in the cemetery in front of the Hall of the Dead, where she was buried. And all the while, the rain poured down, as if the heavens themselves were echoing the mood in the city.

Throughout the ceremony, Chrom and Lissa never let go of each other, the brother allowing his sister to cry into his shoulder even as tears flowed from his own eyes. Frederick stood a few feet away, staring silently at the grave. Robyn was there as well, but stayed at the back of the crowd, unable to bring themself to look for too long at the coffin, feeling detatched from the feeling of grief hanging in the air and yet, at the same time, struggling with their own feelings of guilt, as if they'd been the cause of all this somehow.

Then, Priestess Tiki finished her sermon, Phila's ashes had been buried beside Emmeryn- and Chrom got up to speak. He practically had to shout to be audible above the hissing of the rain hitting the stone of the city, and his voice was rough from crying, but he still somehow sounded like an individual with doubtless authority.

"There were only two people able to bear witness to what happened to my sister and the General. Their testimonies, separately, both point to the same conclusion- they were murdered by a man claiming pride as a Nord, and yet resorting to cowardly tricks in order to kill two unsuspecting people, and escape before anyone could hear that he'd done it.

"We do not know what Walhart plans to do next- to be honest, we do not even know where he is. But what I know for a fact is that he will be brought to justice- both him, and those who support him. I also know that Emmeryn would hate this. Above all things, she valued peace. However, our enemy is not one which can be placated or reasoned with, and so if obtaining that peace means going to war first, then so be it. Let them have their war, and let them see that we will not be so easily shaken.

"Many people have asked me if I will take Emmeryn's place as jarl. And while I know that I will never be as good a leader as she was, I feel I must honor her memory, and her sacrifice, by standing strong now in her place, and by trying to be a leader and a brother she can be proud of.

"So, people of Solitude and people of Skyrim- will you stand with me, to honor my sister and to wipe our land clean of this treachery?!"

The assembled crowd, which had been standing silent, erupted into applause and cheers. And Chrom, the newly-crowned Jarl of Solitude, stood beside his sister's grave, one fist raised in the air. From the back of the crowd, Robyn couldn't tell if it was tears or rain wetting his face.

\-------------

In the days that followed, Chrom did an admirable job of getting the government back on its feet. Frederick was appointed as his housecarl, and Lissa filled the position of steward, and was, just in case, assigned a housecarl of her own- a guard who had distinguished himself in training and yet, somehow, had almost no presence, named Kellam.

The only thing that remained was to find someone to take Phila's place.

One night, after court had been adjourned, Chrom went to see Robyn, who had continued to stay at the Blue Palace at his behest.

"Greetings, my Jarl," said Robyn, looking up in surprise from a copy of A Surfeit Of Thieves, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Chrom's mouth quirked downward. "Please just call me Chrom, at least outside of court. I'm still not used to being called that."

"All right," Robyn said, setting the book aside as Chrom took a seat across from them. He laid a square, flat box on the table, and Robyn looked at it curiously. "What's this?"

"Do you know how to play chess?" Chrom asked, sliding the lid off the box to reveal a simple, but well-made chess set, fashioned out of moonstone and ebony.

Robyn frowned. "Well, I may have, but I certainly don't now."

"Well, let me teach you, then."

Robyn didn't quite understand why Chrom was doing this, but they listened attentively as he outlined the rules and the moves each chess piece was allowed to make. They played several games that night, Chrom maintaining an upper hand due to Robyn's inexperience at first, but they quickly got the hang of it and were soon close to even competition for him.

It eventually grew too late for either of them to keep their eyes open long enougn to play another game, and so they both retired to bed. However, the next night, and the night after that, Chrom returned with the chess set.

"You know, you've got an interesting strategy," he remarked at one point. "You don't think too long about what moves you're making, but you always seem reluctant to sacrifice a piece, no matter what kind it is."

Robyn wasn't sure how to reply to that. "Er... is that a good thing?"

"It can be."

By the end of the third night, nearly every game was either ending in a victory for Robyn, but even when he was soundly defeated, Chrom looked oddly pleased.

After a few games that night, Robyn's curiosity finally got the better of them. "Chrom, not that I haven't enjoyed playing this, but why did you suddenly decide to teach me how? I can hardly imagine you don't have more important things you could be doing, what with you being Jarl now."

Chrom just smiled cryptically, toying with a pawn. "Don't worry- you'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, this chapter was tough to write. But now that it's over with, we're getting to the fun part!


	4. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robyn finally gets to adventurin', and we meet one of my personal favorite characters in FE.

"You appointed them as what?!"

Frederick's voice was audible to just about everyone in the Blue Palace. In the court mage's room, Lissa winced, shaking her head.

"I told Chrom that Frederick wouldn't like this..."

"Wouldn't like what?" Ricken asked, briefly glancing up from his alchemy laboratory.

"He's decided he's going to have Robyn be the new leader of the military, now that Phila's gone."

Ricken about dropped his mortar and pestle. "Seriously?! But that doesn't make any sense!"

"I know, right?" Lissa groaned, trying to ignore the shouting match that seemed to be escalating in the throne room. "And when I asked him why he just gave me some weird, mysterious answer about 'having a hunch.'" She looked Ricken in the eye then, suddenly turning serious. "But you can't tell anyone, okay? It's supposed to be a secret."

Ricken looked puzzled. "What? Why would he keep it a secret?"

"Apparently, he wants Walhart to think we were affected by his attack worse than we actually were, and give Robyn time to get to know how Skyrim works. I would say it was a pretty good plan if it wasn't so obviously terrible, to be honest."

\--------------

Meanwhile, in the throne room, Robyn was getting increasingly uncomfortable as Chrom and Frederick argued.

"Milord, have you forgotten that we have known this individual for just over a week? And that it is still possible that they are some kind of spy or assassin?"

"I thought you said yourself that Ricken verified Robyn's account of the attack on the palace," Chrom countered.

Frederick growled. "You are missing the point! No matter what ideals of faith and trust you may believe in, the fact remains that we have almost no idea who they are!"

Chrom's face turned dark at that. "I'll have you keep in mind that trust in others was one of the cornerstones of Emmeryn's rule, Frederick. I plan to keep that idea alive, no matter how much men like Walhart try to take advantage of it. And I believe that the Divines sent Robyn to us for a reason. Am I clear?"

Frederick was silent for a moment. "Yes, Milord."

"Then we're done here. Thank you, Frederick." With that, Chrom turned to Robyn, his demeanor turning pleasant again. "All right, Robyn, let's go to Castle Dour and get you started. You've got a lot to learn, after all."

On the way to the Castle, Chrom outlined the basics of his idea. Robyn would dress like an ordinary adventuring mage and travel a circuit of all of the holds with jarls sympathetic to Walhart's cause, collecting information and learning about Skyrim at the same time. Meanwhile, Chrom would act as though no general had been appointed yet, while working on battle plans behind the scenes with the help of correspondence from Robyn.

Once inside Castle Dour, Chrom motioned for Robyn to stand at the map table with him.

"You're going to start here, in Dawnstar, the capital of the Pale," he said, pointing at a city on the coast to the east of Solitude. "The jarl there supports Walhart, but her daughter is a good friend of mine, so she can help you out if necessary."

"Oh! That'll work out well for me, then," said Robyn, remembering their discussion with Tiki. "The priestess at the Temple of the Divines said that there's a priest currently in Dawnstar who might be able to help me get my memory back."

"Huh, really?" said Chrom. "Well, part of the purpose of all this is to get you on your feet as well as possible, so do whatever you need to do."

Robyn nodded. "All right. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Oh, yeah- I figured the normal courier service is a little too risky for passing letters like this back and forth, so I've arranged a different way. You've seen the Khajit merchant caravans that travel from city to city, right?"

"Yes, there were some outside the city when you first led me here from the swamp, I think." said Robyn, starting to get where Chrom was going with this.

"Well, I've made an agreement with the leader of one of those caravans- her name is An'nha. She'll carry our letters back and forth as part of her caravan's normal schedule. Anytime you want to send a letter or check for one from me, just find her- she won't be tough to spot." Chrom grinned. "And believe me, she won't betray us- after all, it's the Nords' fault that Khajit caravans aren't allowed inside the cities."

Robyn chuckled. "I almost feel like you should be the one planning strategies, Chrom."

Chrom shook his head. "No, I'm just very well-versed in politics. It takes a different kind of mind to take strategy to the battlefield."

"Fair enough," said Robyn. "So when do I get going?"

"As soon as you're ready, really," said Chrom. Then he turned towards them, his face suddenly serious. "I want to know, though- are you really all right with this? I know this is a lot to put on your shoulders."

Robyn looked at the ground for a moment. "To be honest, my main fear all this time has been that since I've forgotten who I am, I wouldn't be able to find a purpose in life," they said, their voice quiet. 

They looked him in the eye, then. "I still don't know who I was, and I'm not sure if I ever will. But if you feel like I'm the right person to do this, then I will be happy to make this my new path." They chuckled a little. "Besides, whatever I did before I lost my memory, I highly doubt I'd have been in support of Walhart."

Chrom smiled at that. Then, to their surprise, he hugged them. Robyn wasn't sure what to make of it, but they hesitantly patted him on the back.

"Thank you, Robyn," he said, pulling away but leaving his hands on their shoulders for a moment. "I knew fate led me to find you for a reason."

\--------------

Early the next morning, Chrom, Lissa, and Ricken saw Robyn off at the top of the stairs leading down to the Solitude docks. They'd been equipped with what they insisted were more supplies than they really needed, but Chrom insisted on making sure they were prepared for anything.

So, after hugging Chrom snd Lissa, and somewhat awkwardly shaking hands with Ricken, they headed down to hire the ferry to Dawnstar, dressed in adept level destruction robes and a matching hood, and a knapsack containing a whole mess of assorted potions and poisons, enough food for about a week, their old robes and ring, a brand new copy of Immortal Blood ("because boat rides are REALLY boring," Lissa had said), and about 500 septims.

The ride, as Lissa had promised, was completely uneventful, if a little chilly. Robyn had attempted to warm themself up with weak flame spells before the ferryman admonished them, saying they'd light the boat on fire. So, they shivered through the rest of the trip and hopped off as soon as the boat hit the shore, eager to take shelter in the inn, at least for the moment.

As they approached a large building with a sign that read “WINDPEAK INN,” the guard at the door said, "You've come to Dawnstar at a strange time, friend. Seems everyone in town's been having nightmares."

And, sure enough, as soon as they entered, they heard a panicked-sounding woman saying, "But it's the same horrible dream, every night! It's a curse, I tell you!"

Pushing down their hood, Robyn scanned the main room of the inn, quickly spotting the source of the commotion- a plainly-dressed Nord woman, talking to a man in priest robes similar to the ones Tiki had been wearing.

As he seemed to be attempting to reassure the woman, Robyn took a closer look at him. His robes and gentle demeanor spoke of a peaceful religious type, but the fearsome-looking battleaxe strapped to his back told another story entirely. Catching Robyn's interest even more, however, was his face. His slanted, golden eyes, long, pale blonde hair and pointed ears resembled that of an Altmer's, but his face was too rounded and his skin too pale a shade of gold- an elf and human halfbreed, like them.

Feeling oddly reassured by this, they approached him as soon as the Nord woman walked away. As he noticed them, he smiled, but there was anxiety evident in the lines of his face. "Blessings of Mara to you, child. Do you need something?"

"Er... I was told that there was a priest of Mara here, investigating the nightmare problems. Is that you?"

He looked slightly puzzled, but nodded. "Yes, that would be me. My name is Libra. Who are you, then?"

"My name is Robyn, and... unfortunately, that's about all I know about myself. I've lost my memory almost entirely, you see. I asked the head priestess in Solitude if she knew how I could get it back, and she said you might be able to help me."

Libra frowned, looking pensive. "Well, memory loss is one of the symptoms the residents here have been suffering from, but no one has reported losing their memory entirely."

"Well, do you know what's causing the nightmares?" Robyn asked.

The priest looked even more anxious at that. "I... I do know what is causing them. But I am afraid I can do little about it on my own."

"Well..." said Robyn, smiling a little, "What if you had help?"

Libra’s eyebrows went up. “You would do that? Keep in mind that this could be extremely dangerous.”

“Well, if it might get me some answers on my memory loss problem, why not?” Robyn shrugged.

“All right, if you’re sure. Let me tell you what we’ll be doing, then,” Libra said, motioning for Robyn to sit next to him at one of the inn’s tables.

“There’s a ruin just outside of town, that the locals refer to as the Tower of Dawn,” he began, speaking softly to avoid being overheard. “What they don’t know is that it is actually called Nightcaller Temple, and used to house a cult that worshipped the daedric lord Vaermina.”

Robyn’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what that means.”

Libra couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Oh goodness, I’m sorry. I forgot you’d lost your memory. Essentially, the daedric lords are the most powerful of the daedra, beings that live in a place called Oblivion. There are seventeen in all. Each of them has their own plane of Oblivion, and deals in specific things in the mortal realm. Vaermina is the daedric prince of nightmares, dreams and memories. Specifically, it enjoys stealing the memories of mortals while they sleep, leaving behind horrible nightmares, not unlike how a cough marks a more serious illness. The cult is… well, not necessarily gone, inactive would be a more accurate term, but there is still a very powerful artefact at the center of the Temple that I believe is what is causing these nightmares.”

“So we just need to go in there and destroy it, right? Sounds simple enough.”

“I only wish it were that simple,” said Libra, shaking his head. “You see, years ago, the Temple was attacked by a band of orcs, who had been suffering from nightmares just as Dawnstar is now. Knowing they could not overpower the invaders, the priests released a gas into the air called miasma, which they ordinarily used in Vaermina’s rituals, which causes anyone who inhales it to fall into an almost coma-like sleep. I fear that as soon as we enter the Temple, the miasma will dissipate, and the priests and orcs will awaken again, and attack us. Excessive exposure to miasma damages one’s mind, you see, and they have been under its influence for years.”

Robyn nodded slowly. “Well, I at least know that I can handle myself in a fight. Just let me rent a room here to stash my extra things and then I’ll be ready to go.”

\----------------

It was late in the afternoon when they set out, the sun shining from a clear sky making the snow appear to glimmer. Now that they weren’t in as much of a hurry, Robyn was able to get a good look at Dawnstar. All of the buildings were relatively simple and made of wood. The noise of a blacksmith working could be heard somewhere, and clouds of smoke rose from the smelters of two different mines, one on each side of town. Guards sauntered around the well-trodden paths, their shields painted gray and emblazoned with a symbol similar to a compass rose.

“Come, the Temple is this way,” said Libra, leading them onto a path that turned into the gap between the inn and the Jarl’s longhouse. Robyn reminded themself to stop in there later, to meet the contact Chrom had mentioned.

The path led them out of town and up a snow-covered slope, a mountain range becoming visible to their right as they continued onward. Directly ahead lay the ruin of a large stone tower- Nightcaller Temple. And, standing in front of it… two tough-looking frost trolls.

“Shall we?” said Robyn, smiling sardonically at Libra and readying their usual arsenal of spells.

Libra grimaced and unshouldered his battleaxe. “Lady Mara preserve us.”

Then, they both charged in, Robyn throwing on an armor spell and throwing lightning at the beasts while Libra alternately dodged swipes of their claws and sliced into them with his axe. The first one fell relatively quickly, but the second proved more troublesome as Robyn’s magicka ran low and Libra took a few nasty hits. Using the last dregs of their power to cast a healing spell on Libra, Robyn drew their sword and darted in with a yell, engaging the troll head-on. They got a few good hits in before the creature swatted them hard in the head, sending them staggering. Fortunately, by that time Libra had recovered sufficiently to rise to his feet again, and swung his axe down hard, splitting the troll’s skull and killing it instantly.

Wincing, Libra downed a healing potion to fix up the rest of his injuries as Robyn dazedly struggled to their feet, casting Close Wounds on themself.

“A good victory, especially against two dangerous creatures such as these,” Libra mused, cleaning the blades of his axe on the fur of one of the trolls before returning it to his back. “You weren’t lying about being able to handle yourself in a fight.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Robyn appraised.

Libra shook his head. "I do only what is necessary."

Observing that this was likely some kind of sore subject with the priest, Robyn stayed silent and headed towards the door at the base of the tower.

"Huh, it's not locked," they observed, trying the handle.

"Ah, yes, I have already been in there, to make a small shrine to Lady Mara in the entryway," Libra explained, coming up behind them. "I wanted to pray to her for strength before entering the main temple."

Robyn pulled on the door handle, and it opened easily enough, although not without a loud creak of protest.

The inside of the temple was dimly lit and musty-smelling, with rotting wooden pews facing a raised platform on the far side of the room, with a carving of a figure that was most likely Vaermina on the wall behind it. Against the far wall was a table with, sure enough, a small shrine on it.

Robyn noticed something else about the room that was somewhat odd, however. "Wait a second... where's the doorway into the rest of the temple?"

"It's actually hidden behind that carving over there," Libra said, pointing to it. "Please wait a moment while I open it."

By this point, Robyn was starting to really get the feeling that Libra was hiding something. However, his good intentions seemed genuine enough, so they didn't say anything.

As Libra was performing some kind of odd spell on the carving, Robyn wandered around a little bit, taking a closer look at the podium at the front of the room. On it lay a copy of a book entitled The Talos Mistake. Intrigued, they stuck it into their knapsack to read later.

"There we are," Libra announced, and Robyn turned to see that the carving had now turned a purplish color, and they could see through it into another room.

Libra walked through it without hesitation, and Robyn followed cautiously behind him. As they walked down a hallway, Robyn could hear a strange, throbbing hum that got louder the farther they went. When they got to what seemed to be the main part of the tower, Libra pointed downward through a row of metal bars, and Robyn saw what the source of the sound was.

"There it is- the Skull of Corruption, the source of Dawnstar's nightmares."

At the bottom of the tower, surrounded by some kind of translucent barrier was a black staff, aptly named due to the skull shape attached to the top. The dark magic emanating from it was almost tangible.

“You know, I feel like even if no one had told me that was what was causing the nightmares, I probably could have guessed anyway,” said Robyn, their brow furrowed.

“It is indeed a very evil artifact,” Libra agreed. “We should hurry, so as to not allow it a chance to do any more damage.”

Just down the hall, they ran into their first adversaries- a priest in purple robes and an orc in fur armor, lying prostrate on the floor but starting to stir. Robyn quickly set to throwing lightning at the orc, while Libra swung his axe hard into the priest’s shoulder. They both fell within seconds.

But then, it appeared they had a new problem. There was a wall of odd, purplish light blocking the way down the hall, which seemed to be powered by a soul gem on the other side. Robyn moved to attempt to break through it, but Libra put his hand on their shoulder, sighing.

“You may as well not even attempt that- this barrier is impenetrable. Gods, I had entirely forgotten that we had put this- er.” His expression shifted to fear, and then shame, as he realized his slip-up. Averting his gaze, he said quietly, “I suppose there’s no point in hiding it any longer, is there.”

Comprehension dawned on Robyn, then. “You were a priest here, weren’t you?”

Libra seemed to shrink into himself. “Yes, I was. A long time ago. It is… it is my deepest shame.”

Hesitantly, Robyn put a hand on Libra’s shoulder. “Hey- it’s all right. I understand why you’d want to keep something like that a secret. What matters now is that you’ve changed, and that you’re working to help people now, yeah?”

Libra had tensed when Robyn touched him, but at their words he relaxed and looked up again. “Thank you for your kind words, Robyn.”

Robyn shrugged, cracking a small smile. “Hey, I’d hardly be one to talk about sketchy pasts, anyway, given that I don’t even remember who I was two weeks ago. Now let’s get going- we’ve got a city to save, after all.”


	5. Waking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the Waking Nightmare quest, and then Robyn goes to meet Chrom's contact in Dawnstar.

Libra and Robyn made their way through the library, then, where Libra said there might be a book on something called the Dreamstride, which could allow them to get past the barrier. There were several more priests and orcs there, but fighting them off wasn't too terrible of a challenge.

It took several minutes of climbing over toppled bookcases and rubble and sifting through piles of badly damaged books, but Robyn finally found it- a thick blue tome with the likeness of Vaermina on its front in gold leaf, extremely dusty but miraculously unharmed.

"Libra, I've got it!" they yelled triumphantly, dashing back down the stairs to where Libra had been searching the lower level of the library.

Libra straightened up from searching and smiled in relief. "Ah, thank goodness! I was worried it had been burned with the rest of the books. Here, let me see it."

Robyn handed the book over to Libra, who immediately started paging through it. While he did so, they took a moment to grab a few other intact books they'd spotted, intent on getting as much information as possible.

"Excellent, it seems as though this should work," Libra announced after a couple of minutes.

Robyn walked back to where the priest was standing. "Okay, so what do we need to do?"

"Well, the Dreamstride is triggered by drinking a potion called Vaermina's torpor. Essentially, it allows one to experience events of the past as if they were actually there, and when they wake up, they will be where they last were in the Dreamstride. I believe that if you use it to access my memories, you ought to be able to get to te other side of the barrier. Then, when you wake up, you can disable it from the other side so that I can get through as well."

Robyn frowned. "And you know this stuff is safe and won't make me end up like these people?" They asked suspiciously, motioning to the dead bodies lying around them.

Libra nodded. "Positive. As with anything, there are a few minor risks, but as long as you are careful, you will be just fine."

"If you say so," Robyn said. "So how do we get some of this potion?"

Libra pointed to a hallway leading off from the library. "A ways down there is an alchemy lab. If we're lucky, there will still be a bottle of it left."

Going down that hallway led them to, sure enough, more priests and orcs waking up from the miasma. There were quite a lot of them in the alchemy lab, resulting in a particularly challenging fight. Eventually, they managed to bring down all but just one especially tough orc, who kept Libra almost completely on the defensive, shielding himself with the handle of his axe while Robyn struggled to bring the brigand down with their sword, gritting their teeth as they struggled to ignore their own injuries for long enough to help the priest.

Finally, Robyn managed to ram their blade into the orc’s guts from behind, sending him slumping to the floor. Exhausted and injured, both Robyn and Libra took a moment to heal themselves before fully taking stock of the room.

“Gods, this place is a mess,” Robyn observed. And it was- in the upper level of the lab, there was broken glass and residue everywhere from broken potion bottles, and down in the lower area, several large cabinets had been toppled, and alchemy ingredients were strewn all over, most of them trampled and most likely useless by this point.

Libra looked somewhat sad at the state of the place. “Well, let’s see if we can salvage anything. I fear our chances are not looking good for finding a bottle of the Torpor, however.”

So, they set to searching yet again- Libra picking gingerly through the mess in the upper area, while Robyn found an alchemist’s satchel and began storing any ingredients left intact, searching for a bottle of Torpor as they went. Incredibly, they not only found quite a few rare ingredients left unharmed, they also found a dark red vial that matched the description Libra had given them, perfectly intact and full of a thick, clear liquid.

“Hey, I think I found it!” they called up to Libra, not wanting to risk carrying it up the stairs. The priest hurried down, and almost seemed surprised to see the bottle in their hands.

“You know, it’s almost as though the divines are helping us directly with this,” he said in awe, “As both the book and the bottle we needed were left unharmed despite all the destruction around them.”

He almost looked like he was about to drop to his knees and pray just then, but Robyn cut in. “Well, divines or no, we still need to finish this and destroy the skull, right?”

“Ah. Yes. Well… drink up, then, I suppose.” said Libra, motioning to the bottle.

Cautiously, Robyn uncorked it, peering inside at the contents. It smelled sort of sickly-sweet, and they weren’t relishing the idea of drinking it, but knew that they had to. So, they held their breath and poured the Torpor into their mouth, trying not to gag as they swallowed it. For a moment, nothing happened- then, their vision blurred, then turned white, and then…

They recognized their surroundings as being somewhere inside of Nightcaller Temple, although everything seemed a little too intensely colored, and their vision was fuzzy around the edges. Their body felt odd, like it wasn’t quite their own- then they realized it wasn’t. Their shoulders were broader, they were taller, and their hair was much longer. In front of them stood two men, a Dunmer and a Nord, both dressed in the same robes the priests they’d fought against had been wearing, and behind them was… the Skull of Corruption itself.

“The orcs have reached the sanctum, Brother Veren,” said the Nord.

Veren gritted his teeth. “We must hold. We can’t allow the Skull to fall into their hands.”

“But… no more than a handful of us remain, brother.” the Nord looked anguished.

“Then we have no choice. The miasma must be released.”

“The miasma!? But, brother…”

“We have no alternative. It’s the will of Vaermina.” Veren said firmly. He then turned towards Robyn- no, Libra, they reminded themself. “And what about you, Brother Riviera? Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina?”

Robyn found themself saying, “I’ve made my peace. I’m ready.” in Libra’s voice.

“Then it’s decided,” said Veren. “Brother Riviera, you must activate the barrier and release the miasma. Let nothing stop you.” He then turned towards the Nord again. “Brother Thorek, we must remain here and guard this Skull with our lives if necessary.”

Thorek nodded. “Agreed. To the death,” he said grimly.

“Then let it be done,” said Veren. “Farewell, my brothers!”

Then, Robyn found themself dashing down the hall, dodging orcs and priests alike, who were, fortunately, too busy fighting each other to notice a single priest slipping past them. Glad that Libra’s body seemed to know where to go even though they most certainly didn’t, they careened around several corners, up multiple flights of stairs, and eventually found themself in a place they did recognize- the other side of the barrier. Hanging from the wall was a chain, attached to some kind of mechanism.

Libra’s hand reached up, grabbed the metal loop at the end of the chain, and pulled. There was a loud hissing sound, presumably of the miasma escaping. Then, Robyn’s vision brightened almost painfully, then dimmed… and they were back in their own body, right where they had been standing as Libra. It was almost hilariously simple, then, to pick up the soul gem powering the barrier from its holder, deactivating it instantly.

Then Libra, who it seemed had been waiting on the other side for Robyn to appear, stepped through the doorway, looking amazed. “That was… that was incredible! As soon as you drank the Torpor, you disappeared, and then after several minutes you reappeared here!”

“It was really something from my end, too,” Robyn agreed. “I got to see the attack on the temple as if I was actually there.”

Libra sighed and averted his gaze for a moment, seemingly remembering that time, himself. “Well, we mustn’t dwell on the past too much- we still need to reach the Skull and destroy it.”

The rest of their journey through the Temple was somewhat surreal for Robyn (when they busy weren’t being attacked by miasma-crazed priests and brigands, or course), as they had already seen all of it, but as someone else and in a different time.

And then, they arrived at the base of the tower. The Skull’s humming was almost overpoweringly loud here, as it was just at the other end of the hallway. Cautiously, Libra and Robyn crept forward, and had almost reached the room housing the Skull when two priests emerged, one from either side of the doorway. Robyn gasped as they realized they recognized them.

“Wait…” said Libra, sounding shocked, “Veren, Thorek… you’re alive!”

“No thanks to you, Riviera,” Veren snarled, drawing a steel mace from where it was strapped at his hip.

Libra bristled. “I no longer use that name. I’m Libra, Priest of Mara.”

Veren sneered. “You’re a traitor. You left us to die and then ran before the miasma took you.”

“No. I… I was scared,” Libra stammered. “I wasn’t ready to sleep.”

“Enough of your lies!” Veren shouted, lunging for Libra. “I can’t allow you to destroy the Skull, Priest of Mara!”

Libra looked anguished, but determined, as he drew his axe, Robyn following suit with their magic as Thorek advanced on them as well. “Then you leave me no choice,” he said lowly.

The battle that followed was difficult and bloody. Every time they thought they had almost brought down one of the priests, he would drop back just long enough to heal himself, and they would have to try all over again. 

Finally, Thorek fell, gasping out, “Vaermina, forgive me…” as Robyn wrenched their sword from his abdomen. They looked up just in time to see Libra get in a lucky hit on Veren, his axe blade biting deep into the the junction where the priest’s neck met his shoulder.

“How could you, Libra…?” were his last words, gritted out through his ruined windpipe, before he slumped to the ground, dead.

Libra leaned unsteadily on the handle of his battleaxe and drew in a ragged breath, his face turned away from Robyn, as the bodies of his two old friends cooled at their feet. Robyn stood silently, healing their wounds and allowing him his time to grieve, trying not to think about the fact that this was the second time they had been in a situation like this in a very short period of time.

After several long moments, Libra turned towards them, his eyes red. “I… knew Veren and Thorek. They were my friends. Is this punishment, for my past? Is it Mara’s will to torment me so?”

Robyn shook their head. “You did what had to be done, Libra. You saw them- the miasma had poisoned their minds, as well.”

He seemed somewhat comforted by that, at least. “...You’re right. I couldn’t have let my own personal suffering lead to harm being caused to all of Dawnstar, after all.” Libra turned towards the Skull, then. “Now, to finally deal with this.”

Replacing his axe on his back, he strode up the stairs, Robyn following behind him, interested to see what he would do.

“First, an incantation to remove the barrier,” Libra said, raising his hands so they were just barely away from the surface of the dome surrounding the Skull. Then, he began to chant. “I call upon you, Lady Mara. The Skull hungers- it yearns for memories and leaves nightmares in its wake. Grant me the power to break through this barrier and send the Skull to the depths of Oblivion!”

And, just like that, the barrier wavered for a moment, then vanished.

Then, a voice, sly and feminine, spoke in Robyn’s mind. “He’s decieving you,” it purred, “When the ritual is complete, the Skull will be free and then Libra will turn on you. Quickly! Kill him now. Kill him and claim the Skull for your own. Vaermina commands you!”

But Robyn gritted their teeth, and did nothing. If Chrom could trust them, despite them being an oddly-dressed stranger with no memory of who they were, then they could trust Libra, they were sure of it.

And then, sure enough, the Skull’s humming intensified for one brief moment, and then it crumbled into ash. 

Libra looked at Robyn, smiling. “Thank you so much for your help, Robyn. I would certainly not have been able to do this without you.”

Robyn grinned back, relieved that he seemed to be in better spirits, and that Vaermina really had been lying. “I’m glad I could help. There’s… something I feel like I should tell you, though, since you trusted me with your secret.”

Libra tilted his head slightly. “Hm? What is it, Robyn?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest about who I am. I really have lost my memory, but the truth is… I’m working for Jarl Chrom, of Solitude. He’s sent me to investigate all of the holds that Walhart controls now, and Dawnstar was my first stop.”

Libra stared at them a moment, seemingly processing what they had said. “Well… I have never been one for politics, but I certainly cannot say that I agree with Walhart’s beliefs, or his methods. High Queen Emmeryn was a very kind woman, from what I hear, and she did not deserve to die for the supposed pride of the Nords. And since you have helped me… I feel I should help you in return. The way to Winterhold is dangerous- allow me to accompany you.”

“Well, I’d be a fool to refuse that offer,” Robyn chuckled. “I’ve still got some business here, but I’d be glad to have you along.”

Outside, it was nighttime, an aurora starting to shimmer in the sky. It was even colder than it had been in the daytime, but Robyn felt somehow content as they and Libra walked back down the hill to Dawnstar. Although, not so content that they weren’t incredibly grateful to step into the warmth of the Windpeak Inn and collapse into bed, of course.

\----------------

Robyn woke up the next morning feeling well rested, if a little disoriented before they remembered where they were. They had fallen asleep in their clothes, they noticed with some embarassment, and so they straightened them out as best they could before heading into the main room for breakfast.

Libra was already up, sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace and eating some toast. He looked up at the sound of their door opening.

"Good morning, Robyn," he greeted them.

"Morning, Libra," they replied cheerfully, before going to the counter to buy a sweetroll for themself. Chrom had given them much more money than was necessary, it seemed- food was quite cheap, and they'd even managed to get some gold off of the bandits they'd killed in Nightcaller Temple, as well as in a chest they'd found off to the side of the Skull's platform.

Then, after breakfast, it was time to do what Chrom had actually sent them here to do.

First order of business was to attempt to locate Chrom's Khajit contact. They told Libra to do whatever he needed to do around Dawnstar while they took care of some things, and then went looking. Sure enough, just outside of town, a small circle of fur tents had been set up. Sitting on a rug in the doorway of the biggest one sat a female Khajit with reddish fur, the hair on her head pulled back in a ponytail. As they approached her, she regarded them with mischievous green eyes.

"Er, hello. Are you An'nha?" they asked hesitantly.

The Khajit grinned. “Ah, you must be the one called Robyn, then. Our mutual friend has told me to expect you,” she rasped in the way all Khajit seemed to speak.

“Oh, good. It’s nice to meet you- I hope this, uh… ‘arrangement’ won’t run you into any trouble.”

An’nha kept smiling, but her eyes narrowed slyly. “Oh, do not worry- prices are not the only thing this one can slash.”

Robyn swallowed nervously.

“Ah, yes,” An’nha said, remembering something. “There is already a letter for you. One moment, please.”

She got to her feet, and went deeper into the tent, rummaging through several bags before producing a small envelope.

“Here you are,” she said, handing it to them.

“He really doesn’t waste time, does he,” they said amusedly, taking it. “Thank you again, An’nha.”

“You are most welcome. May your road lead you to warm sands.”

Waving goodbye to An’nha, they found a rock to sit on and read the letter.

"Robyn-  
If you're reading this, that means you've arrived in Dawnstar. I hope you got there all right.  
My contact there is the daughter of the Jarl, a girl named Sumia. Both she and the court mage are trustworthy, although the Jarl herself is not, unfortunately. I've sent word to Sumia to expect your arrival, but you should still be extremely cautious.  
Make sure to send word with whatever you learn while in Dawnstar. Enclosed are instructions for your next destination.  
Best of luck,  
-Chrom"

And, in different handwriting, at the bottom, it read:

"p.s. Lissa and Ricken say hi."

Robyn chuckled and pocketed the letter.

Finding the Jarl's longhouse was easy enough- it was the tallest building in town, and stood right next to the inn.

Inside, the longhouse was so different from the Blue Palace that it was almost comical. Untreated wood walls, floors and ceilings, and a main hall containing nothing other than a firepit, a few simple wooden benches, and a throne. On said throne sat a woman in fine clothes, seemingly middle-aged, with wavy, pale gray hair. On one of the benches sat a girl who looked like a younger version of the woman, who looked up expectantly when she saw them.

The girl got up, evidently intending to greet them, but didn't take two steps before she tripped over some unseen obstacle and fell face-first onto the floor.

"Oh gods, are you all right?" Robyn asked.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," she said, sounding embarassed, as she got to her feet. "I'm just clumsy... but oh! Are you here to see the Jarl?"

Robyn paused, trying to work out how to handle this without giving anything away. "Er... I'm looking for the court mage, actually."

The girl nodded. "I'll show you to her, then."

She led Robyn up a flight of simple log stairs, to a room on the second floor. Inside, an alchemy lab and an enchanting table were crammed against one wall, a bed and a nightstand taking up most of the other half of the room. In front of the alchemy lab stood a woman in robes like Ricken's, with her back turned to them.

The girl closed the door behind them cautiously, before turning to Robyn.

"You're Robyn, right?" she asked anxiously. "The person Chrom sent?"

Robyn nodded. "That's me. So you must be Sumia, then?"

The girl nodded. By this time, the court mage had turned around and was watching them neutrally. She was a particularly fine-featured Altmer, with dark red hair cut neatly just above her shoulders.

"Robyn, this is Miriel. She's my mother's court mage, but she's on Chrom's side, too."

Miriel huffed. "Naturally, given that I'm an elf."

Robyn smirked. "Believe me, I understand."

Miriel frowned for a moment, squinting at them. "You're not a full-blooded elf, though, are you?"

"No, just half Dunmer, though I'm not sure which parent was which," Robyn said, removing their hood to allow her to see their pointed ears and fine, pale hair.

"My, but that is fascinating," said Miriel, "One hardly ever sees hybrids like yourself. Would you mind if I took some notes-"

"Miriel," Sumia cut her off tiredly, as if she'd had to intervene in similar situations many times before, "Chrom sent Robyn here for information, not to be scientifically examined."

"Ah, yes. My apologies."

"Well, Robyn, I'm afraid there isn't terribly much I can tell you right now," said Sumia apologetically. "My mother never really tells me anything about her Jarldom business. She never really seemed to like Queen Emmeryn's policies, for sure, but I'm not sure if she was in cahoots with Walhart before he staged his uprising. All I know is that just a few days after the Queen was assassinated, he and some of his soldiers showed up and talked to her for a while, and the next thing I knew, she was announcing to everyone that the city was now under juristiction of the Nordheart army."

"A worse bunch of uncultured ruffians I've never met," Miriel sniffed. "They asked if, since I'm an alchemist, I could brew them some ale. Ale! As if I'd waste my time making such lowbrow concoctions."

Sumia chuckled at that. "Yes, so, if you and Chrom need any help from us, we'll be happy to do whatever we can."

"Well, we might just need that very soon," said Robyn, their tone turning slightly grim. "I'll be sure to send word to Chrom right away. Thank you both for your help- and be careful. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of this little scheme."

"We will," Sumia reassured them. "Good luck, Robyn."

\-------------

"Chrom-  
I met up with An'nha and Sumia without a hitch. I've enclosed a full report of what I found out here in Dawnstar.  
I had quite an interesting adventure as soon as I got here- turns out, the nightmare problems were being caused by a daedric artifact that was housed in the Tower of Dawn. I helped a nice Priest of Mara get to it and destroy it, though, so it's not a problem anymore. Said priest has also offered to travel with me for a ways, so he'll be accompanying me to Winterhold.  
Hope everything's going well on your end.  
-Robyn  
p.s. Say hello to Lissa and Ricken for me."

\--------------

After giving An'nha their letter to deliver to Chrom, Robyn went looking for Libra. Eventually, they found him standing near the mine on the eastern side of the harbor, deep in discussion with a man who seemed to be in charge of the place, with a young boy in a dirty red tunic by his side.

"-possibly allow a child to live a life like this in good conscience?" They heard him saying.

"Er, Libra?" they asked, coming up beside him and the boy. "Is everything all right?"

Libra turned towards them, smiling and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Oh, hello, Robyn. Yes, everything is fine- I had just observed that this poor orphan boy was being forced to run supplies to the miners for a living, and was making sure he was not being mistreated."

Robyn's eyebrows went up. "Well, I should certainly hope he wasn't," they said, giving the mine boss a pointed look. The man nodded hastily, suddenly looking slightly terrified at the appearance of yet another formidable-looking individual.

"Then I believe we're done here. I wish you the best of luck, Alesan, but it seems that I need to be going now."

The boy nodded mutely, seeming slightly awestruck.

"So, I take it you have taken care of what you needed to do here?" Libra asked as they walked back towards the inn.

Robyn nodded. "I didn't get much information, but it's a start. Chrom also sent me some instructions for the next city, but I'll just look at those on the way."

It didn't take long for either of them to pack their things, and soon they were walking along the edge of the harbor, in order to follow the coast to Winterhold.

They didn't get far, however, before Robyn noticed something odd in the rocks a little farther up the beach, and wandered over to investigate.

"What in the world is this?" they asked, examining what seemed to be a door, set securely into the stone. It was made of a black material, maybe ebony, and had a white skull with a red handprint on its forehead emblazoned on it, with a crude likeness of a skeleton, also in white, underneath it. Oddly enough, it seemed to be emitting a dull throbbing noise that sort of hurt their head.

"Be careful, Robyn," Libra said anxiously, keeping his distance. "I've heard all kinds of rumors in town about the origins of that door, and none of them were good."

"I know, I know," said Robyn distractedly, too curious to worry too much. Unthinkingly, they reached out and touched the edge of the door, intending to attempt to open it.

They jumped in surprise when a voice asked in an eerie hiss, seemingly from inside of the door, "What is life's greatest illusion?"

"Uh," said Robyn, hastily withdrawing their hand. "I... I don't know."

"You are not worthy," said the door.

Robyn frowned, backing away from it. "Well, that's weird."

Libra just shook his head. "I have already had quite enough of dark magic for a while, personally."

"Yeah, you're right," said Robyn. "Best not to mess with it."

So, the two of them turned away from the black door, and set a course for Winterhold.


	6. The College of Winterhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robyn takes care of their business in Winterhold, but ends up in a tricky situation when someone figures out they aren't precisely who they claim to be. Meanwhile, in Solitude, Chrom has some rather... interesting visitors.

"Instructions For Winterhold-  
I'll be honest- there really isn't much to do in Winterhold, nor do I really have any contacts there I can connect you with. Almost no one lives there, not since it was almost torn apart about 200 years ago (ask the locals if you want the full story). The only thing that really keeps it on the map is the College of Winterhold, which miraculously survived the disaster that tore the rest of the place apart, and was subsequently blamed by most of the townsfolk for that same disaster.  
I would reccomend just looking around the Jarl's longhouse as much as you can, and then taking a visit to the College to see if you can make some friends there, if you know what I mean. They've got a big library there, too, so that would be a good way for you to search for ways to get your memory back.  
The Khajit caravans don't ever go to Winterhold, so just go to Windhelm once you're finished there and meet with An'nha outside of town- she'll be camped out to the right side of the bridge.   
And when you go to Windhelm, be careful.  
Good luck!  
-Chrom"

\----------------

As they walked with Libra along the coastline, Robyn found themself fascinated with the scenery of the place. The sky had clouded over, making the sea appear a greenish-gray color, and off in the distance, massive icebergs could be seen jutting out of the water. Closer to them were scattered islands, covered in snow and ice and ringed by black gravel beaches, almost forming a maze.

The journey was not without its dangers- more than once, they ran into packs of ice wolves, and even a sabre cat. The horkers, at least, didn't attack unless they got too close to them.

Finally, Libra pointed ahead of them. "Robyn, look- it's the College of Winterhold."

Robyn looked in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, a large building situated precariously on an island was visible through the mist, connected to the mainland by a bridge that looked as though it used to have supports connected to the ground below it, but they had fallen away.

"It doesn't look terribly... structurally sound," they observed.

"I don't know much about it, myself, but I've heard that it is still the best center for magical education in Skyrim- well, the only one, really," said Libra.

Soon, they were almost right under the bridge. Libra showed the way to a path that led up from the beach, and they finally entered Winterhold.

Chrom had been right- the place was a mess. The ruined remains of several houses lined the cliffside they had just scaled- in fact, the only intact building on that side of what looked to be the only street in the town was the inn. On the other side was the Jarl's longhouse, a general goods store, and some other unlabeled building. To their immediate right were the steps leading up to the College's bridge.

Robyn looked around at the dismal little place. "Well, looks like the only thing for it is to go to the College," they said.

So, around the corner and up a flight of stairs they went, until they were stopped by an Altmer in gray-green mage robes, her hair tied back tightly.

"Halt! Turn back now- the way is dangerous and the door will not open. You shall not gain entry!"

Robyn frowned. "What, is the College not accepting applicants right now?"

The elf looked somewhat taken aback for a moment. "Oh- my apologies. You must understand, most people attempting to cross the bridge these days do not harbor good intentions. But if you are seeking to apply, you certainly can- you just need to show some degree of skill with magic first."

"Well, I wasn't really- oh, to Oblivion with it, why not? Just tell me what I need to do."

"And what about your friend, here? Is he seeking to join?" she asked, peering at Libra, who had been standing there looking rather awkward the whole time.

"Well, he's not really a mage, I don't think. He's just my travelling companion at the moment." Robyn explained.

The altmer frowned. "Well, I suppose he can accompany you inside if you're accepted, as long as he doesn't wander off."

Robyn chuckled a little, trying to imagine the mild-mannered priest causing a ruckus in a college full of mages. "Believe me, he won't be any trouble."

"Very well. For your application test, if you would just cast a magelight spell on this symbol on the floor here," she said, motioning to a circular tile bearing an insignia of an eye with lines radiating from its edges.

Robyn grinned. "Easy enough," they said, casting the spell with ease, causing a small ball of light to float a few inches from the floor.

"Good, then. You may enter- come with me."

As she led them along the bridge, the Altmer introduced herself. "My name is Faralda- I am the professor of destruction magic here at the College. Once you're inside, you'll want to speak to Mirabelle Ervine, our Master Wizard."

Robyn nodded vacantly, too busy being extremely nervous about the state of the bridge they were crossing- there was even one segment of it where the sides were gone entirely, leaving a ten-foot stretch open, with nothing to stop a person from plummeting to the beach far below.

"Just don't look down," they heard Libra mutter to himself behind them.

After that, to Robyn's great relief, the door to the College stood ahead of them, bearing the same eye insignia. At their approach, it swung open of its own accord.

Inside, the courtyard of the College was circular, ringed by tall, black stone walls, with a large building on the opposite side. At the center stood a statue of a person in billowing robes, holding their hands up, giving the impression that they were creating the pillar of blue light shining from a stone circle in front of the statue.

Upon approaching the main building, Robyn could see two people standing by the door- another woman in mage robes, this one human, and a tall Altmer with long white hair, wearing black and gold robes like Virion's. They seemed to be having a rather tense discussion, but cut it off when they noticed people approaching. The Altmer sneered slightly and stalked back into the building, while the woman turned to face them.

"Oh, Faralda. Who are these two?" she asked.

"This one has applied to join the College, the other is their travelling partner," Faralda explained, motioning to Robyn and Libra in turn.

"A new student, hm?" said the woman. "There sure do seem to be a lot of you lately. What are your names?"

"I'm Robyn."

"And I'm Libra, Priest of Mara."

The woman smiled slightly. "Nice to meet you both. I'm Mirabelle Ervine, Master Wizard here at the College. The Arch-Mage is the one who is actually in charge, but his duties keep him very busy, so I'm the one in charge of admissions and other such things. If you'll follow me, I'll give you a tour of the campus."

Mirabelle showed them first to the student dorms, which were also built in a circular format. Robyn was assigned a room, and Libra was told that they could likely find him a bedroll if need be. Then she showed them into the main building, indicating the doors to the Arch-Mage's quarters and the Arcaneum, which Robyn assumed was likely the library Chrom had written about.

"And through here is the Hall of the Elements, the main lecture hall of the College," Mirabelle finished, gesturing to the set of doors identical to the main gate that were the focal point of the entryway of the main building. "It seems that Tolfdir is in there right now with your fellow students- you ought to go in there and join them, Robyn."

Sure enough, on the other side of another light beam fixture like the one outside, an elderly man was talking about the dangers of magic use to a small group of mages- a nervous-looking Nord, a gray-furred Khajit with a confident smirk on his face, and a Dunmer wearing a gold circlet instead of a hood, who looked somewhat bored. Hesitantly, Robyn joined the group, Libra electing to sit on one of the benches at the edge of the room.

"Oh, welcome!" said Tolfdir, noticing them. "We were just getting started, you're just in time." Then, he turned back to the group. "Now, as I was saying, magic is, by its very nature, volatile and dangerous. If not used correctly, it can and will destroy you."

"Look, we understand that already," protested the Nord standing next to Robyn. "We wouldn't be here if we didn't already know how to use magic safely!"

"I know that you are all already competent mages- that much is not being called into question," said Tolfdir calmly. "But true mastery of magic takes years, even decades, of work."

The Dunmer rolled her eyes. "Look, can we just learn something already?"

Tolfdir looked exasperated. "All right, I suppose we can learn something practical. Are you all familiar with ward spells?"

He then proceeded to demonstrate a basic ward spell, and then told the students to try practicing it themselves for the rest of the lesson time. The four stood around awkwardly for a moment before the Khajit asked the Nord to partner up with him, leaving Robyn with the Dunmer.

The girl strode over, looking them up and down. Once close enough, she held out her hand. "So. My name's Tharja. What's yours?"

Robyn shook her hand. "I'm Robyn. Nice to meet you."

Tharja smirked at them. "You know, with those robes, you don't exactly look like an ordinary student- you're not just here to get an education, are you?"

Robyn grimaced. "Keep your voice down, will you? Is it really that obvious?"

"Oh, don't worry- I don't particularly care what you're up to, as long as it doesn't get in my way," Tharja chuckled. "However..." she added slyly, twirling a lock of her long black hair around her finger, "I have been looking for a subject to test a few spells on. So, how's this- I won't tell anyone you're up to something, and you let me practice on you. Deal?"

Robyn frowned, starting to get a bad feeling about this situation. "What kind of spells are we talking about here?"

"Oh, nothing harmful, I promise." Tharja said in a way that really wasn't all that reassuring. "I've already tried these spells on animals- skeevers and things like that. I'd just like to see their effects on people firsthand."

Robyn still didn't like this, but it seemed that they had no choice but to agree- other than taking drastic measures, but as long as these spells really were harmless, it wouldn't be a problem, right?

"Well, all right. But my travelling companion has to be there when you're testing the spells, okay?" Robyn said, motioning towards Libra, who was still sitting on a bench, reading a book.

"Goodness, you really don't trust me, do you?" Tharja said amusedly. "But I suppose that's fair. Meet me in the Midden at midnight tonight, then."

\----------------

Robyn spent the rest of the day exploring the library (the librarian curtly dismissed any inquiries about the College's views on recent politics but was happy to find them books on the subject of memory loss), finding out where the Midden actually was (according to Tolfdir, it was accessible through a trapdoor on the left side of the main building, but to be careful down there, which didn't make them feel any better about the situation), and breaking the news to Libra about the agreement they'd just had to make in order to not have their cover blown (he just sighed and shook his head, muttering something that sounded like "just attract trouble everywhere you go, don't you").

Then, night fell, and it was time to go down and see exactly what they'd just signed up for.

As Tolfdir had said, there was a small wooden trapdoor built into the pathway on one side of the main building. Taking a deep breath, Robyn pulled it open surprisingly noiselessly, and climbed through, their feet finding the rungs of a ladder. With Libra following above them, they descended into an icy cavern, with the remnants of walls built out of the same stone as the College on two sides. Leaning against the frame of a doorway built into one of said walls was Tharja, a smug smirk on her face.

"So, you came after all, hm?" she said as they approached her.

Robyn bristled. "Well, I didn't exactly have much choice, now did I?"

Tharja just smirked wider, motioning for them to follow her. "This way. And don't worry, I've already cleared out anything that had taken up residence down here."

Sure enough, as she led them deeper into the Midden, they passed the remains of two large frostbite spiders and an ice wraith, which seemed to have been torn apart quite violently with destruction magic. Robyn shivered and looked away.

Eventually, they ended up in a sizable room, with a table and chairs in the middle and a cabinet up against the wall. There was an opening to an adjoining room in one wall, which was dominated by what looked like some kind of bizarre summoning circle.

Tharja pointed to one of the chairs. "Sit here," she told Robyn. "Your friend can take a chair over towards the wall, but he can't sit too close."

Robyn did as they were told, and Libra placed a chair in between Tharja and the doorway, watching her warily as he sat.

The spells she wanted to test, as it turned out, were mostly paralysis spells- Robyn was highly concerned about exactly how safe this was going to be, but Tharja assured them that the spell only affected movement of external body parts, so it wouldn't paralyze their lungs or their heart.

All in all, it really wasn't so bad. They just had to sit there (not that they had much say in the matter once she'd cast a paralysis spell on them) while Tharja measured their heart and breathing rates, occasionally telling them to try moving to see if the spell had worn off yet. They were, quite honestly, impressed with how much longer the spell lasted than standard-issue paralysis spells- even the most powerful one they knew of only lasted about twenty seconds, but they found they were unable to move for several minutes.

Robyn could have done without the vaguely predatory smirk she kept looking at them with while they were sitting there at her mercy, though.

Finally, Tharja told them that she had tested out everything she needed to, so they could leave. Relieved to finally be back in control of their own body, Robyn stood up hurriedly and left, Libra following close behind and looking equally ready to be out of there.

Then, finding themself exhausted from being up so late, Robyn collapsed into their bed in the Hall of Attainment and fell asleep almost immediately.

\------------------

The next morning, Robyn awoke to find a book with the Alteration symbol on the front and the words “Spell Tome: Extended Paralysis” written on the spine. Sighing, they opened it and learned the spell, figuring they likely wouldn’t have much of a use for it, but they might as well anyway.

Libra sat up in his bedroll then, having been awoken by the noise of Robyn moving around. “So, what’s the plan for today, Robyn?” he asked, supressing a yawn.

“Well, the College turned out to be a dead end, so there isn’t much for it but to go check the Jarl’s headquarters and then head off to Windhelm.”

Libra nodded slowly, but looked somewhat uncertain.

Robyn frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, it’s just… I’ve heard a lot of stories about how elves are treated in Windhelm. Bad stories. I know it’s selfish of me, since you’re even worse off in their eyes, but-”

“Libra.” Robyn cut him off. “I’m not going to make you come with me if it’s going to make you uncomfortable- this is my business, not yours. I won’t blame you at all if you want to part ways.”

Libra looked torn. “But… what kind of priest am I if I can’t spread Mara’s teachings in even the most hatred-filled place?”

“The kind of priest that understands that he can’t help other people if he doesn’t help himself first,” Robyn said. He smiled at Libra, then. “Look, I’m not exactly excited to face down those thickheaded Nords, myself. But it wouldn’t make me feel any better if you made yourself come with me even though you didn’t want to.”

Libra still looked upset, but there was relief in his tone as he said, “All right. Thank you, Robyn, again. I think I’ll go back to Dawnstar- I’ll be at Nightcaller Temple if you ever want me to travel with you again.”

Robyn cracked a small grin. “Well, let’s not say goodbye just yet- we haven’t even had breakfast!”

That finally got Libra to smile. “Very true. Let’s get to that, then.”

They ate a quick breakfast in the small cafeteria room in the Hall of Attainment, then packed their things and left the College. As they walked out the gate, Robyn pointedly ignored the fact that they could see Tharja watching them from a shadowed part of the pathway.

The walk across the bridge was just as nerve-wracking as it had been the first time, but soon they reached the other side, and Robyn realized it really was time to say goodbye, now.

“Well, Libra, thanks a lot for your help- gods know what Tharja would have done to me if you hadn’t been there to watch my back,” Robyn chuckled.

Libra smiled back at them. “And thank you, again, for… helping me face my past. I hope we’ll meet again.”

Robyn put a hand on his shoulder, and this time, he didn’t flinch. “I’m sure we will. Safe journey, Libra.”

“Blessings of Mara be with you, Robyn.”

Then, Libra turned and walked away, back down the path to Dawnstar. Within a few moments, he turned a corner and was out of sight.

Robyn stood there silently for a moment longer, watching the snow start to fall, then gathered themself and turned towards the Jarl’s longhouse.

There was still a war to be won, after all.

\---------------

“My Jarl, you’ve got to come to the main gate, quickly!”

Chrom looked up from the letter he’d been writing, alarmed. “What is it, Stahl? Are we under attack?”

Stahl shook his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… there’s these foreigners at the gate, they say they’re nobles from Hammerfell, here on a… diplomacy trip, I think they called it? The guards there aren’t letting them in, but they’re not going away, insisting they wanted to speak to you personally.”

“Well, let’s see what they want, then,” Chrom said, standing from his desk.

Stahl led him down to the main gate, where, sure enough, a small group of Redguards was standing, horse-drawn wagon and all. At the front of the group stood two people who seemed to be the leaders of the group- a man and a woman, both in what looked like embellished versions of the traditional garb of Alik’r warriors and both intimidatingly muscular.

“Excuse me,” Chrom addressed them once he was close enough. “I am Chrom, the Jarl of this hold. What business have you in Solitude?”

Both of them turned towards him, and under their gazes Chrom had to momentarily remind himself that despite the fact that it looked like either of them could take his head off with their bare hands, he was the one in charge here.

“Well now, this is more like it!” said the man in a deep baritone. “You’re Chrom, eh? Heard a lot about you.”

The woman punched him in the shoulder. “Quiet, oaf. Pardon his manners- he doesn’t get out much,” she said, and grinned at Chrom. “I’m Flavia, and this mannerless cur is Basilio. We’re diplomats from Hammerfell, you see- we were sent here because we heard your country was in a spot of trouble, and our leader wanted to foster goodwill between our country and… well, the side of the conflict that seems less likely to shut down trade between our nations entirely.” She handed him a piece of parchment with a wax seal which, sure enough, verified that they were emissaries sent by the country of Hammerfell.

Chrom’s smiled bitterly as he handed her back the paper. “Yes, I would imagine that bastard Walhart wouldn’t exactly give your little group a warm welcome, now would he- oh, pardon my indelicacy.”

But Flavia and Basilio just laughed. “Hey, no worries- better to speak your mind than act so damn stuffy all the time!” Basilio reassured him.

“But hey, on that note,” Flavia added, “Could you have a word with your damn gate guards and get them to let us in? This hasn’t exactly been a pleasant journey, and our whole caravan is exhausted.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Chrom said, and then he called to the guards who had gathered at the gate. “These people are ambassadors from Hammerfell on a mission of goodwill- they are not to be bothered, and are hereby allowed into the city.”

The guards all saluted, said, “Yes, my Jarl!” and returned to their posts.

So, the gates were opened wide enough for the cart to get through, and Chrom led the caravan into the city.

“We can put your cart in the courtyard of Castle Dour, I’m sure,” Chrom said to the diplomats as they fell in step on either side of him. “The one problem will be finding room for you all to stay in… how may of you are there?”

Basilio hummed thoughtfully. “Well, there’s Flavia and me, our two guards, and our entertainer.”

Chrom’s brow furrowed. “Your… entertainer? You mean, a bard?”

“Oh no, she’s not a bard,” said Flavia, shaking her head. “She’s a dancer- a damn good one, too.”

“Huh,” Chrom said, intrigued. “You know, we really don’t have any dancers in Skyrim. I’d be interested to see her perform.”

Basilio chuckled. “Well, I’m sure that can be arranged. She’s a little nervous about performing in front of people, though.”

Chrom racked his brain for where in the Blue Palace they could possibly have room for four extra people… and then it hit him.

“Well, there is an extra wing of the Blue Palace, but the thing is… there are rumours it’s cursed. It could use some serious cleaning, but if you aren’t bothered by a little superstition, then there’d be plenty of room for you all to stay there.”

“Sounds fine to me,” said Basilio. “I don’t put any stock in that kind of hogwash anyway.”

Flavia nodded her agreement. “Just tell us when we can go in there and set up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tharja was a little tricky to write, so I hope I did her justice.
> 
> Next chapter, Robyn goes solo to Windhelm, and ends up wrapped up in something that makes them glad they no longer have a priest of Mara along for the ride.


	7. City of Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robyn arrives in Windhelm, and discovers just how bad the Nords' prejudice can be.

If the road to Winterhold was difficult, the road to Windhelm was downright miserable. It was a meandering mountain pass through a forest infested with frostbite spiders, and to top it all off the weather was threatening to turn into an all-out snowstorm.

Robyn nearly cried with happiness when they saw a small mining settlement to one side of the road, where at least they were able to rest for a little while and have a warm meal before setting out on the road again.

Of course, they didn't make it a mile before they ran into a group of bandits looking for easy prey. It wasn't a terribly long fight, however, as Robyn took the opportunity to take out their frustration with the difficulty of the journey on them.

It was decidedly nighttime by the time they made it to Windhelm, the darkness only making the cold worse. They could see that the Khajit camp was set up to the right of the bridge, but decided going to find An'nha could wait until the morning. Shivering, they walked doggedly onward, and finally made it through the gates.

But once they were in the city, it seemed that they weren't off the hook for that day yet, however.

"Damn you greyskins- you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Nordhearts!"

"But we haven't chosen a side because it's not our fight!" protested a Dunmer, facing down a pair of burly Nord men who were looking at her with utter hatred on their faces.

"Oi," said the other Nord to the man next to him, "Maybe the reason why these greyskins won't help our side is because they're Solitude spies!"

"Solitude spies?!" the woman bristled. "Why, that's preposterous!"

"Maybe we'll pay ya a visit tonight, little spy," sneered the Nord who'd spoken first. "We've got ways of finding out who you really are."

Guffawing, the two men wandered off, back towards the inn, leaving the Dunmer standing there, seething.

"Excuse me," Robyn said hesitantly, lowering their hood. "Are you all right? Those guys looked like some real pieces of work."

The woman turned, looking surprised, and then relieved as she noted their elven features. She sighed, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Windhelm is full of prejudice and narrow-mindedness, but Stone-Fist and his cronies are by far the worst. He likes to get drunk and wander the Gray Quarter in the small hours of the morning, shouting insults. A real charmer, that one."

Robyn's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, I've never visited this city before... what is the Gray Quarter?"

The woman smiled wryly. "It's the only place where Dunmer are allowed to live in this city- a run-down slum with a high crime rate and few guard patrols. We've made it as much like home as we can, but there's only so much you can do."

Robyn gritted their teeth. "Well, gods willing, it won't be like that forever."

The woman's eyebrows went up a little at that, but she didn't question them. "Azura's mercy, though, you've obviously had an arduous journey to get here." She motioned for them to follow her. "Here, come- Candlehearth Hall's no place for a Dunmer; the innkeeper there's as bad as any of them. I'll take you to the Cornerclub. I'm sure we'll be able to find someplace for you to stay. Oh, by the way, my name's Suvaris- it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too- my name's Robyn and, well, while I'm sure you can see I'm no pure-blooded elf, I've no love for 'Nord pride' either," Robyn said derisively. "And honestly, at this point, I'll settle for anyplace that's warm and sheltered."

Suvaris chuckled at that. "I'm sure we can manage that, then."

Robyn was led along a meandering path of old stone roads that they were relatively sure they wouldn't remember in the morning, and finally down a set of stairs into what was obviously the Gray Quarter. The buildings were badly kept up, decorated with a few tattered banners that seemed to have originally been brightly patterned in orange and red. Suvaris showed them to an inset doorway, with an old wooden sign next to it that read "NEW GNISIS CORNERCLUB".

And finally, finally, Robyn was out of the cold and the wind. Breathing a sigh of incredible relief, they looked at their surroundings.

It was a decent enough looking tavern, with a few tables and chairs set up and candles lit all over, filling the place with flickering orange light. There were several others in there, all elves and most of them Dunmer, including the woman behind the bar, who had looked up from cleaning a tankard and was eyeing them curiously. She had long, straight black hair with neatly cut bangs, and angular crimson eyes that seemed to look right through them.

"Hello Say'ri," Suvaris greeted her. "I've brought a visitor- a newcomer to Windhelm. I know they're not fully an elf but I knew they'd still face prejudice from the Nords, so I brought them here."

Say'ri studied them a moment longer, then nodded. "Yes, I'd imagine a halfblood would almost have it worse, in some ways. What is your name?"

"My name's Robyn- I came here from Winterhold, but I've been travelling all over Skyrim." Suddenly hit by fatigue, they stifled a yawn. "I'm sorry- it took me all day to get here and I'm absolutely exhausted."

Beside them, Suvaris spoke up again. "Stone-Fist and one of his goons are loitering around Candlehearth like usual, so I knew it wouldn't be safe for them there. Is there anyplace they could stay here?"

Say'ri looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, this certainly isn't an inn, but... I think there is a spare bedroll somewhere, if you wouldn't mind sleeping in the kitchen. It's warm there, at least, from the fire."

"That would be absolutely fantastic," said Robyn gratefully.

\---------------

The next morning, Robyn woke up feeling much better. They purchased breakfast from Say'ri, paying her the usual ten gold for renting a room at an inn while they were at it. Then, they set out to get Chrom's instructions from An'nha.

They weren't positive what the best route was to the city gate, so they took a left from one of the main streets of the Gray Quarter, and found themself in a nicer residential area. Standing underneath a stone arch was a Dunmer woman in a plain gray dress and a small Nord child.

"Then, it's true, isn't it? What they're saying?" the little boy was saying. "That Aventus Aretino contacted the Dark Brotherhood and got Grelod the Kind killed?"

That got Robyn's attention- they slipped into a shadowy corner and continued watching.

The woman looked anxious for a moment, but covered it up quickly with an obviously faked laugh. "Oh, Grimvar, always with the nonsense. No, no, of course not. Those are just tales!"

Grimvar grinned cheekily at her. "Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play. He lives right here. I'm going to knock on his door-"

"No, child! Wait!" the woman said in a panicked tone. "That boy, that house- they're cursed."

"Ha! Then I'm right, I knew it. He did the Black Sacrament in there and had old Grelod killed!"

The woman shook her head. "All right. I won't deny it, child. What you heard is true. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can lead only to ruin." She put a hand on the boy's shoulder and guided him away, then. "Now, enough. We will speak no more of this. I am the only friend you need."

As they disappeared around a corner, Robyn left their hiding place. They weren't positive what that had all been about- they had heard the Dark Brotherhood mentioned now and then, and knew what their organization did, but didn't know much more than that. This definitely sounded like something Chrom would want investigated, though. So, they approached the house that Grimvar had indicated.

Trying the door revealed that it was locked. So, Robyn knocked a few times. There was no response after a minute, so they knocked again. 

Then, finally, the door opened slightly, and a boy with short brown hair poked his head out curiously. "Uh... who is it?" he asked.

"Er, hello," Robyn greeted him. "My name is Robyn. Are you Aventus Aretino?"

The boy opened the door a little further. "Yeah, that's me. Why?"

"I heard that you asked the Dark Brotherhood to have a woman named Grelod the Kind killed. Is that true?"

Aventus nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! You see, my mother... she died. And I got sent to this orphanage in Riften, called Honorhall. The headmistress, Grelod, was an awful, awful woman- she starved us and beat us and made us do chores all day! So, I ran away, and I came home, and did the Black Sacrament, and then... the Dark Brotherhood killed her!"

Robyn's brow furrowed. "So... they contacted you personally once you did this... Sacrament thing?"

Aventus nodded again.

"Could I ask who the person you talked to was?"

The boy looked worried at that. "I don't know... if it's safe to tell you. He could kill me!"

"So it was a man, huh? Well, I won't ask you to tell me anything more than that- you're right, I shouldn't put you in danger. Thank you for your help, Aventus." Robyn waved to the boy briefly and then quickly walked away, feeling somewhat unnerved. If just a little boy could hire this Dark Brotherhood to kill someone, who knew what other nefarious uses there were for their services? Could someone hire them to kill Chrom or Lissa?

Troubled by these thoughts, they found their way to the city gate and crossed the bridge to the Khajit camp.

"Greetings, Robyn," An'nha rasped, waving to them with a clawed hand. "You are here for your letter, yes? Wait just one moment." She went deeper into her tent, and then reappeared a moment later, holding out the usual parchment envelope.

Robyn took it with a grateful nod. "Thanks again, An'nha."

An'nha smiled. "You are most welcome. Warm sands, Robyn."

Walking a bit away from the camp, Robyn opened the letter.

"Hello Robyn-  
I hope you got to Windhelm all right. The road from Winterhold to there isn't fantastic, even in the best of weather.  
Anyway, like I said- be careful in Windhelm. It's Walhart's center of operations, and it's full of people sympathetic to his cause. The only people there you'll likely be able to trust are the non-human population- mainly, the Dunmer and the Argonians.  
The Dunmer live in an area of the city called the Gray Quarter, which was allotted to them after a whole bunch of them showed up seeking refuge from a massive volcanic eruption in their homeland. Nobody else in the city treats them very well, especially not Walhart. The Argonians have it even worse- like the Khajit, they aren't even allowed in the city. If you want to talk to them, you can find them working at the docks.  
I would reccommend going to the Gray Quarter and finding out how likely we'd be to get help from them while retaking the city. I've actually heard rumors that someone there is trying to start a resistance movement.  
No matter what you do, though, stay away from the Palace of the Kings. That's Walhart's center of operations, and where he'll likely be almost all of the time.  
When you leave Windhelm for Riften, there's a place I'd like you to check out- an Orc stronghold called Narzulbur. I once knew an Orc named Sully, who was a relatively high-ranking member of our military for a while before she was called back to her stronghold, evidently because they had arranged a marriage for her to the chief of Narzulbur. I heard there's recently been some kind of trouble there, and I'd like you to make sure she's all right. The place should be marked on your map, but if it isn't, any guard can likely point you in the right direction.  
A quick update of what's been happening on my end- we've recieved some visitors. Diplomats from Hammerfell, here on a goodwill mission. They're a somewhat odd bunch, but they're trustworthy if only because they know that if Walhart took over Skyrim, their trade routes through here would be cut off. They're interested in meeting you, so I'll introduce you to them when you get back from your trip.  
Best of luck with your journey- tread carefully and stay safe.  
-Chrom"

Robyn frowned, staring at the letter. A resistance movement, huh? If they had to guess who the leader was, they’d have to say Say’ri- the only problem was, how would they ask her about it without seeming suspicious?

Deciding that particular issue could wait a little longer, Robyn returned to the city, to sell some trinkets they’d taken off the bandits they’d killed. The merchants in the market square were an interestingly diverse bunch- a sly-looking Altmer, a Nord farmer, a Dunmer butcher, and another Altmer running an alchemical store called The White Phial, although he looked rather sickly, and kept berating them for “lollygagging” while they were using the alchemy lab in the corner.

They then spent some time on the docks, where a few Argonians were tending to various menial tasks while a group of sailors were unloading the cargo from their ship. One of the Argonians, a man with dark green scales and curved horns, seemed to be taking a break to eat lunch, so they approached him.

“Hello, landstrider. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he remarked, looking up at them from his seat on the low wall on the edge of the dock.

Hesitantly, Robyn took a seat next to him. “Well, that’s because I’ve never been to Windhelm before.”

“A dark elf going to Windhelm by choice? Now that’s something,” he said, shaking his head incredulously. “My name is Scouts-Many-Marshes. What’s yours?”

“I’m Robyn- it’s nice to meet you.” Robyn looked around for a moment before continuing. “Is it really true that the Nords don’t let Argonians into the city?”

Scouts-Many-Marshes sighed. “Indeed it is. The Nords claim it’s to keep the tensions down between us and the dark elves, but it’s obvious they just don’t want us around. They certainly don’t seem to mind having us around to do the jobs they don’t want to do, though.” He punctuated this remark by aggressively taking another bite of his bread, as if he was taking his anger out on it.

Robyn frowned. "Gods, it seems like everywhere I go in Skyrim, I hear about more injustice at the hands of the Nords. I just got here a couple of weeks ago, you see." Not necessarily a lie, but they had no idea whether or not that was actually the truth.

"We're used to getting by on scraps, but the Shatter-Shields want everything for nothing. Their patriarch, Torbjorn- I wish someone would beat the coin out of his fat fists. He clings to every Septim." Scouts-Many-Marshes growled and took another bite of his bread. "He says an Argonian's labor is only worth a tenth of a 'proper Nord worker.' My people are not slaves!"

"Shatter-Shield, huh... you know, I think I saw him in the market earlier," Robyn remarked, starting to get an idea. "You want me to see if I can talk some sense into him?"

The Argonian smiled bitterly. "You can try, but we've gotten nowhere talking to him ourselves." Then he sighed and stood up, eating the last of his lunch. "I'd better get back to work. Safe travels, Robyn."

Once he walked off, Robyn stood as well, glad to finally be able to do something about all the injustice they'd been witnessing. Without further delay, they made their way back to the market.

There, sure enough, was an older man in a fur cloak and a fancy green shirt with gold decorations, studying the wares at the Altmer Niranye's market stall. Taking a deep breath, they approached him.

"Excuse me. You're Torbjorn Shatter-Shield, yes?"

The man turned, looking surprised, and then mildly annoyed.

"And what do you want, elf?" he said impatiently.

Robyn didn't quail, looking him in the eye. "You need to pay the Argonian dock-workers a fair wage- they can hardly get by on what you're giving them now."

Torbjorn scowled. "Those boots aren't worth the septims I do pay them. I'm not giving them coin I could give to good, Nord workers."

Robyn felt their blood boil, but kept a level head. "They'll work harder if you pay them more," they said, attempting to appeal to his better judgement.

"They don't work now. Why should I waste more money?"

All right, that was it. Robyn took a threatening step forward. "Pay them, or things will get ugly," they growled.

Torbjorn looked furious. "I don't have to take that from you!" he exclaimed, and abruptly lashed out at them with a fist. Taken off-guard, Robyn jerked their head to the side, but he still managed a glancing hit on their cheek.

By this point, everyone in the market was staring. The guards weren't intervening, Robyn noted, which meant that either brawls were legal in Skyrim (which honestly wouldn't be surprising) or they were waiting for them to fight it out before stepping in. So, a fight it was, then.

Robyn wasn't necessarily an experienced fist-fighter, but they found that similar principles to swordfighting applied here- Torbjorn was a rather large man, and was weighted down by his heavy clothes, giving them a significant advantage in speed. Ducking under what would have been a vicious right hook, they returned fire, rising up on their toes and slamming their fist into his jaw, feeling the ring on their index finger cut into his skin. The man roared with pain, managing to avoid stumbling back, and took another swing at them- an uppercut, which they barely avoided by leaning back.

This went on for several minutes, Robyn dodging Torbjorn's heavy-handed blows and then darting in, hitting him where it hurt- mainly, his stomach and his head. Occasionally, someone in the small crowd that had gathered to watch would yell something like "Come on, hit 'em!" or "My money's on the big one!" Finally, after a particularly vicious hit to his gut, he stumbled and lost his balance, falling to his knees. Breathing hard, their heartbeat loud in their ears and adrenaline burning in their veins, they barely heard him swear, "Damn boot-lover."

"You pay those Argonians fairly, or else," they snarled as he struggled to get to his feet. Finally, he did, and glared at them for a moment, his hand covering the cuts on his cheek from their ring.

"Fine," he spat. "By the honor of Clan Shatter-Shield, the Argonians will be paid as much as any other worker."

Robyn grinned triumphantly, using restoration magic on the few bruises he'd managed to inflict on him, as Torbjorn limped away. The crowd that had gathered dispersed, murmuring to themselves, but they noticed that several of them, especially the Dunmer running the butcher's stand, looked quite pleased.

And then Robyn realized that the news that a human-Dunmer halfbreed had just beat the living daylights out of a high-ranking figure in Windhelm would likely travel fast... including to the Palace of the Kings.

With that alarming fact in mind, they hurried to the Gray Quarter and out the door to the docks, where they informed a stunned Scouts-Many-Marshes that he and his fellow workers would be getting a fair wage from then on, refused his offer of giving them some potions he'd been saving in thanks, and then rushed back to the New Gnisis Cornerclub.

Say'ri was behind the counter as usual, and looked up when they ran in, breathing hard.

"Azura's mercy, is the city on fire?" she asked jokingly.

Robyn shook their head, catching their breath. "I just got in a fistfight with Torbjorn Shatter-Shield and now Walhart is going to know I'm here," they explained in a rush.

Say'ri's brow furrowed. "Well, I daresay the bastard deserved it, but what's this about Walhart? Why should he care about another Dunmer in the city?"

"Well, it's... kind of an odd story," they said awkwardly. Then, they realized something- this could be their chance to make contact with the resistance group Chrom had mentioned.

"Robyn, what is your real business here?" Say'ri asked, her eyes narrowed.

Robyn drew in a deep breath. "I can tell you, but I have to know that you won't betray me to Walhart."

Say'ri actually laughed at that. "Betray you to- mercy, friend, if you stand against him, then we are on the same side! Come, sit, and I will see what I can do to help."

So, Robyn sat at the bar and told Say'ri the whole story- waking up in the swamp, fighting Nordheart scouts with Chrom, Lissa and Frederick, witnessing Emmeryn's death, and finally, being sent out as a spy.

"Jarl Chrom actually told me in his most recent letter that there were rumors of a resistance group forming in the Gray Quarter," Robyn added. "Am I assuming correctly that I've found it?"

Say'ri, who had looked increasingly surprised and hopeful as the story went on, nodded. "Indeed. I have been attempting to organize a formal internal resistance for some time now among the oppressed groups in Windhelm, but... I have had difficulties. Many believe that I am overreacting, or that there is no hope of ever ending the Nords' prejudice. But if I were to tell them that we have Solitude at our backs..." She grinned and clasped Robyn's hand in hers on the table. "We really do stand a chance of changing things. Especially with someone like you in charge, Robyn."

Robyn blinked, somewhat taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Well... I'll have to send a report to Jarl Chrom that I've made contact with you. We have a secure system for passing letters back and forth, so the report won't fall into the wrong hands, don't worry." They stood, then, and extricated their hand. "It will be a pleasure to work with you in the coming months, Say'ri."

Say'ri stood as well, determination in her eyes. "I will look forward to it."

Then, Robyn remembered why they had rushed into the Cornerclub in the first place. "Well, I should probably get going before Walhart realizes that the same person who witnessed him murdering Queen Emmeryn is now running around in his city and beating up pillars of the community," they said, smiling wryly.

Say'ri suddenly looked grim. "You must be careful, Robyn- do not underestimate Walhart. He has a tactician of his own who knows no concept of mercy."

Robyn nodded. "You be careful too, Say'ri. I'll send word to you for officially starting operations as soon as I get back to Solitude, but until then, stay low."

And so, Robyn gathered their belongings from the upstairs room of the Cornerclub, said goodbye to Say'ri, and left the building, pulling their hood up to cover their face as well as possible.

As they walked through the streets, trying to look as non-suspicious as possible, it was evident that the guards knew something was up- they were all looking around intently rather than seeming bored like usual, and one or two of them stopped dead and watched them as they passed.

Finally, they reached the gates, their heart beating furiously at the risk of being caught. Once they were clear of the exit, they broke into a run, stopping momentarily to leave a hurried message for Chrom with An'nha before dashing off, following the signs for Riften.

\---------------

"Chrom-  
Sorry I can't write more- its a long story, but Walhart likely knows I was in Windhelm now, so I had to get out of there. I made contact with the resistance leader and she's agreed to help us. I'm going to Narzulbur now, and I'll go to Riften after. Wish me luck.  
-Robyn"

\----------------

"Good gods, you weren't kidding when you said this place needed cleaning!" Basilio exclaimed, looking around at the state of the Pelagius Wing.

"Well, no one's been in here since sometime in the Third Era," Chrom said. "If you'll work with us, I'm sure we can get it cleaned in no time, though."

"Right then. Let's get to it!" Flavia said determinedly.

So, they all rolled up their sleeves and got to work. Basilio and Flavia worked on the front room, which seemed to have originally been a dining room. Their guards, a stern-looking blonde woman named Raimi and a quiet, dark-haired man who seemed to have some elf blood in him named Lon'qu, were assigned to the basement, and Lissa, Chrom, Frederick and the Redguards' dancer, a slight-figured girl named Olivia, neatened up the bedrooms and got fresh linens and towels.

Their team effort was going fantastically- until Raimi came running up the stairs, yelling, "Your Graces!" and sounding panicked.

"Raimi? What's wrong?" Flavia asked, setting down the chair she'd been moving.

"It's Lon'qu- he's disappeared!"

Chrom and Lissa came in then, having heard the ruckus.

"Wait, disappeared how?" Lissa asked, sounding confused. "This place isn't that big."

"No, I mean he actually vanished!" Raimi exclaimed. "We didn't even get to the basement- at the end of the hall, he just disappeared!"

"By the gods," Chrom said quietly. "The curse."

"Curse, my ass!" Flavia spat. "To Oblivion with that superstitious bullshit. We're gonna go down there, find whatever made him disappear, and tear it to pieces."

Before Chrom or Lissa could protest, Flavia and Basilio charged off down the hall, scimitars in hand, Raimi hurriedly turning and following them.

Chrom and Lissa stood there, nervously waiting, for several minutes. Then, the three of them returned, empty-handed and looking frustrated.

"Blast it, there's nothing there!" Basilio growled, gesturing angrily with his sword and almost hitting Flavia in the process. She snarled, but seemed too distracted to actually rebuke him.

"Basilio, Flavia, I am so sorry- I always thought the curse was just superstition." Chrom said, sounding genuinely remorseful. "We can compensate you for the loss of your guard if you'd like."

Both diplomats looked as though they were about to say something when they heard Olivia's voice down the hall.

"Erm, Lon'qu? Why are you dressed like that?"

Everyone in the room exchanged bewildered glances, then stared in even greater confusion as Lon'qu emerged from the doorway, wearing Third Era-style party clothes and holding what looked like some kind of staff.

"Well I'll be damned," Basilio said under his breath.

"Where were you?!" Flavia exclaimed, "We searched everywhere!"

Lon'qu frowned. "I do not know where I was. It was some forest- there was a man there, he made me complete three... incredibly strange tasks with this." He raised the staff he was holding. "Then he sent me back with it."

"And did he say who he was?" said Chrom suspiciously, studying the staff.

Lon'qu shook his head. "I believe he did, but it was such an odd name that I do not remember it."

Chrom thought for a moment, then turned to his sister. "Lissa, can you get Ricken in here? He might know something about this."

"Right!" said Lissa, and she dashed off into the main part of the palace.

A few minutes later, Lissa returned with Ricken in tow.

"What is it, my Jarl?" he said curiously, peering around at all the people assembled in the room.

"Lon'qu, show him the staff," said Chrom, motioning for the guard to come over. "Do you recognize this, Ricken?"

Ricken gasped when he saw it. "That's... that's the Jabberwock!" he said, his green eyes wide.

"The what-huh?" Lissa asked incredulously.

"The Jabberwock!" Ricken exclaimed. "The artifact of the Daedric lord Sheogorath! How on Nirn did you get it?!"

"Oh, yes- that was his name," Lon'qu said, his eyebrows raised.

Ricken froze. "Wait... you met it?"

Lon'qu nodded.

"Ricken, what is this about?" Chrom said, sounding slightly alarmed. "Are you saying there is a Daedric lord's influence here?"

"Well..." Ricken said hesitantly, "In a manner of speaking, yes. I'd guess that it had influence here left over from when Pelagius was here, but now that it's chosen a champion, it probably won't bother you anymore."

"Hold on!" Flavia interjected. "Do you mean that Lon'qu is this... thing's champion?"

Ricken stepped back nervously. "Er. Well, since he does have its artifact, I'd say so. But I've never heard of a Daedric lord interfering with its champion after choosing them! Except for- well, never mind."

Lon'qu, Raimi, Flavia, and Basilio still looked very confused, but somewhat relieved, at least.

"So... the Pelagius wing is safe now, right?" Chrom asked.

Ricken nodded. "Yeah, it was probably just looking for a new champion. Now that it has one, it wouldn't stay here."

Flavia clapped her hands. "Well! Let's get back to work, in that case."

Everyone agreed to that, at least, and they were about to disperse when Stahl ran in for the second time that day.

"My Jarl! Sorry to bother you again, but you have a message from An'nha, and she says it's urgent!"

Chrom turned, his brow furrowed. "What on Nirn...?"

"Here it is, sir," said the guard, handing him a slightly wrinkled piece of parchment.

"Thank you," said Chrom, and handed Stahl a small bag of septims. "Give this to An'nha and tell her to expect me later."

"Yes, my Jarl." Stahl saluted and ran off.

Then, Chrom turned his attention to Robyn's letter.


	8. The Guild and the Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robyn visits Narzulbur, and finds out that Sully is actually doing quite well for herself. Then, it's off to Riften, and it turns out that there, at least, the Nordhearts are the least of their worries.

Robyn had, honestly, meant to run all the way to Narzulbur to make absolutely sure that the Nordhearts wouldn’t be able to track them. However, doing so brought them into an area they hadn’t ever seen the like of in Skyrim- for one thing, it was actually warm, a fact which they greatly appreciated.

They slowed a minute to catch their breath, taking in their surroundings. The area seemed to be full of hot springs- pools of steaming blue water, fed by the occasional small geyser. The terrain was incredibly uneven, and even the path was occasionally intersected by a large ridge in the ground. The plant life was interesting as well- vines covered in small, purple fruits grew low to the ground, as did clusters of red, root-like plants. Also growing along side the path were dragon's tongue, as well as the usual mountain flowers.

All in all, it would have been a rather pleasant area to travel through if it weren’t for the heavy smell of sulfur, the sabre cats, and the giant, whose camp they had to carefully sneak by, watching warily as he paced around, massive club in hand.

Once they felt they were a safe distance from Windhelm, Robyn turned east into the wilderness, in the direction of Narzulbur. Doing so eventually brought them out of the hot springs region, and back into the cold, snowy pine forests they had come to expect from Skyrim. At the very least, the sky was clear, the sun shining down and warming their back as they trudged uphill, a small settlement walled by a thick log fence on one side and the face of a mountain on the other finally visible up ahead.

Unfortunately, as they approached the stronghold, it became apparent that it wasn’t going to be as easy as just walking in the gate.

“Halt!” shouted an Orc in fur armor, standing on a small lookout tower just inside the walls. “This is an Orc stronghold. None but Orcs and blood-kin are allowed inside.”

“I come in the name of Jarl Chrom of Solitude, seeking an Orc who lives here,” Robyn called back.

The Orc frowned at them, folding her arms. “And what is the name of the one you seek?”

“I believe her name was Sully. I have the letter from Jarl Chrom right here, if you’d like proof,” they said, pulling the document out of their pocket and waving it a little.

The Orc’s eyebrows shot up at that, but her face quickly reverted back to a neutral expression. “Then I shall go and get her, and we shall see if she trusts your claim.”

With that, she walked briskly down the stairs from the tower, disappearing from Robyn’s sight. They could just barely hear the sound of someone knocking on a door, followed by the sound of the Orc they’d talked to having a conversation with another one, although they couldn’t make out any of the words.

Finally, another Orc ascended the guard tower. This one was definitely not just a gate guard- she was impressively muscular, and dressed in a well-kept set of steel armor. She had bigger tusks than Robyn had ever seen on a female Orc, a nose that looked like it had suffered the result of many fist fights, and a mess of short, reddish hair on her head.

“Why do you come to my camp, seeking me, outsider?” she said tersely.

“You’re Sully, right?” Robyn asked, trying not to show just how intimdated they were. “I come in the name of Jarl Chrom of Solitude- he wanted me to find you and… make sure you weren’t dead, I suppose.”

The Orc stared down at them silently for a moment, and Robyn began to wonder if they should start running before it was too late. But then, she abruptly started laughing.

“Really now!” she exclaimed. “Yeah, I’m Sully- but that’s Chief Sully to you. Let me see some kind of proof that Chrom sent you, and then you can come in. I’ve been wondering how that little squirt was doing.”

Slightly bewildered, Robyn approached the gate as Sully pulled it open, and showed her the letter, official Solitude seal and all.

“All right!” Sully said cheerfully, cuffing them on the shoulder in a way that was evidently meant to be friendly, but almost made them fall over from the force of it. “I figured nobody’d know that Chrom and I knew each other unless he actually told them, but I wanted to make sure. Come on in- oh, but I oughta ask your name first.”

“It’s Robyn,” they said, inclining their head.

“Well, Robyn, come on in- we’ll have some mead and you can tell me what’s been going on in Solitude since I left.”

Sully promptly led them towards a large building towards the back of the stronghold, various Orcs pausing in their duties to stare at the strange outsider their Chief had just let into the camp.

The inside of the building was exactly what Robyn expected from an Orc’s lodging- simple but sturdy wood furniture, no unnecessary decorations, a large fire burning in a stone fireplace. As promised, Sully handed them a bottle of mead, and motioned for them to sit down in one of the chairs facing the fire. Uncorking a bottle for herself (with her teeth), she took a seat next to them, took a swig, and then looked at them expectantly.

“So? What’s this about Chrom being the Jarl now? I heard something serious went down over there, and I’ve been seeing a whole lot of soldiers in red uniforms running around, but I haven’t heard anything concrete.”

Robyn smiled wryly and took a drink of their own mead before speaking. “Well, it’s quite a story, and unfortunately I can’t tell you anything that happened previous to… about two weeks ago, but I’ll tell you what I do know.”

Yet again, they recounted the entire story of the recent events in Solitude, Sully occasionally interrupting them with “Oh, that skeever-humping bastard,” or “Heh, that’s Chrom for ya.”

When they finished their story with a recount of their escape from Windhelm, Sully still looked a little confused. “All right, so that all makes sense, but why’d Chrom send you here again?”  
Robyn showed her their letter from him. “He wanted me to check on you, because apparently he heard something bad happened here.”

Sully squinted at the letter for a moment, then looked up at them and smirked, which was sort of an odd effect with her tusks in the way. “I think I know what he’s talking about now. And, well, in case you haven’t noticed- my station here isn’t exactly what he described in his letter.”

Robyn frowned, the answer beginning to dawn on them. “So… you’re saying that you got married to the chief, and then he died and you took over?”

Sully’s smirk turned into a full-on grin. “Yep- in fact, I killed him myself. I never wanted to marry the bastard, and then he started, well… trying to take liberties, let’s just say. And so I showed him the error of his ways, and here I am- first female Orc chief.”

Robyn couldn’t help but grin back, raising their bottle, now almost empty. “Well, good on you- it’s good to hear about someone getting back at someone who treated them like shit for once.”

The Orc chuckled and tapped her own mead against Robyn’s. “You know, with you and Chrom in charge of things over in Solitude, I get the feeling there’ll be a lot more of that happening.”

\-------------

By the time Robyn and Sully’s conversation wound down, it was getting dark out, so the Orc insisted they spend the night before making their way to Riften. Unfortunately, sleeping in an Orc stronghold turned out to not be a terribly pleasant experience, as they soon learned that almost all Orcs snore. Loudly.

They eventually managed to get to sleep, only to be woken early in the morning by Sully jostling them roughly, hollering, “Hey, you gonna sleep the whole damn day, or what?!”

Grumbling and having a bizarre flashback to being woken up similarly in the middle of the swamp, Robyn pulled their head out from where they’d wedged it firmly under their pillow. They squinted up at Sully, who was grinning down at them, a half-eaten apple in one hand.

“C’mon, there’s breakfast on the table,” the Orc said cheerfully. “You want to make good time getting to Riften, don’t you?”

Robyn sullenly muttered that yes, they did, and dragged themself out of bed.

The other Orcs in the stronghold still seemed a little hesitant about their presence there, but less so than the previous night, apparently willing to trust their chief’s judgement. As they ate a breakfast of rough bread and cheese, Robyn sat in a chair outside the main building, watching the residents of the stronghold go about their daily tasks. An older woman was working diligently at an alchemy laboratory, creating some rather vicious poisons from the looks of it. A man wearing thick gloves and a blacksmith’s apron walked by a few times, carrying heavy bundles of firewood across a bridge at the far end of the camp, at the far end of which sat a forge and smelter. Nearby, the woman who had first talked to them when they approached the camp was practicing her swordfighting on a straw dummy. Watching her, Robyn made a mental note to never get on an Orc’s bad side if they could help it.

Eventually, Sully emerged from the longhouse as well, holding a piece of parchment.

“Here,” she said, handing it to Robyn, “Give this to Chrom when you see him.”

“Certainly,” Robyn replied, then pulled their knapsack into their lap from where it had been sitting beside them and slid the letter into an inside pocket for safekeeping. Then, having finished their breakfast, they stood, slinging the straps over one shoulder.

“Well, I probably ought to be going,” they said, motioning in the general direction of Riften. “I appreciate your hospitality, though. I understand it’s not common practice to let outsiders into your strongholds.”

Sully just chuckled, patting them on the shoulder rather forcefully again. “Hey, don’t worry about it- any friend of Chrom’s is a friend of mine. You make sure not to let those Nordheart bastards get you, all right?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Robyn promised. “Goodbye, Chief Sully.”

“Fight well, Robyn!”

And so, they set back out again, trekking out of the pine forest and finding the path that wound through the hot springs. They passed through a small settlement called Kynesgrove, but figured it was too early to stop for lunch.

After that, the hot springs gradiated back into a forest, and the path abruptly started going uphill, making even walking somewhat arduous. Robyn remembered a book they’d read about the holds of Skyrim mentioning that the Rift was on a plateau- this must be how one had to get there, then.

Just as the path evened out again, Robyn came across another small village, called Shor’s Stone- and this time, it was a good time to stop for lunch. So, they joined the local miners around their cooking fire and ate a bowl of stew while listening to them discuss what was to be done about the frostbite spiders that had invaded Redbelly Mine, which the village was built around, and its main source of income.

Finally, they decided to speak up, figuring it was what Chrom would want them to do- besides, they could use a few more vials of spider venom. “I could probably help with your spider problem.”

One of the miners, a bearded Nord, snorted derisively. “You can certainly try. You should talk to Filnjar first, though.” He pointed to a house right next to the mine, where a balding man in a blacksmith’s apron was hammering out metal on a forge.

So, Robyn set their bowl down, and did just that.

“Excuse me, are you Filnjar?” they asked, feeling the heat of the forge on their face as they approached the man.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, looking up at them briefly but not pausing in his work. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I heard that your mine has a spider infestation. I could clear them out for you, if you’d like.”

That seemed to get Filnjar’s attention- he stopped hammering, quenched the metal in a trough of water, and turned to face them. “Really now? Tell you what- keep to your word, and I’ll line your pockets with as much as I can scrape up.”

Robyn nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ll get right to it, then.”

As they walked away, the man called after them, “I don’t want to be responsible for sending you to your death. Be careful in the mine!”

The entrance of the mine was easy enough to spot- a set of worn wooden doors set in the hillside, surrounded by wooden scaffolding. The guard standing by it gave Robyn a curious look as they walked by, but said nothing.

Sure enough, there were a hell of a lot of spiders in the mine. They were nasty-looking creatures, but fortunately, they were all relatively small ones, which only took one well-placed fireball spell to kill. They were done with the job in just a few minutes, collected several vials of venom, and strode back out again, dusting off their robes.

Filnjar looked up at them in surprise as they walked back up the stairs to the forge again. “All right, your spider problem is solved,” they announced.

The man’s eyebrows went up even further at that. “Gone? Every one of them? Why, that’s incredible!” He took one of his gloves off and rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a pouch of septims. “Finally, we can reopen the mine and put Shor’s Stone back on the map. Here, please accept this gift as a token of our gratitude.”

He handed the pouch to Robyn, who nodded their head in thanks. “I was happy to help. I should probably get going now, though- I’d like to get to Riften before it gets too late.”

“Oh, be careful on the road to Riften- there’s an old fort that way, and it’s been occupied by a bunch of bandits,” Filnjar warned.

“Thanks, I will,” Robyn said. Then, with a brief wave, they walked away, and back onto the road again.

As Filnjar had said, Robyn soon came across an old stone fort, labelled on their map as Fort Greenwall. They stood at a distance from it, trying to decide whether to fight the bandits they could see patrolling the walls, or make a break for it. Going around it certainly wasn’t an option- there were steep hills on either side of the approach, so they would have to go through the fort no matter what.

Eventually, they decided fighting them wasn’t worth the time or risk, so they readied a stamina potion and sprinted into the fort. The bandits were so bewildered by their sudden entry that they didn’t think to attempt to attack them until they had run clear to the other side and back onto the open path. Several arrows shot by them, one of them actually managing to hit home, stabbing into their shoulder and making them grunt with pain, but they endured it and kept running until they couldn’t hear the bandits’ shouting anymore.

When they came to a stop, the scenery had changed again- the path was cutting through a picturesque forest of birch trees, the sunlight filtering through a canopy of yellow-green leaves. Wincing, they reached back and yanked the arrow out of their shoulder, hitting the wound with a burst of healing magic which negated the pain almost immediately. Why anyone would think magic was a bad thing, Robyn had no idea.

The rest of the journey to Riften was blessedly uneventful, save for a couple of wolves attacking them, but they were easy to kill. As they approached the city, they passed by a few tall watchtowers, as well as a stable and a flat area with a fire pit that seemed to be where the Khajit would set up camp. They hoped An’nha would arrive soon with word from Chrom.

The city itself was walled with dark, almost black, stone, with a sturdy wooden gate set in it at the end of the path. They were stopped as they made to enter by one of the guards, who unsheathed her sword and blocked the way with it.

“Hold there,” she said. “Anyone entering Riften has to pay the visitor’s tax.”

Robyn frowned, confused. “The… what? What's the tax for?”

“For the privilege of entering the city. Does it matter?” the guard scoffed.

Robyn’s frown deepened, as they sensed there was some foul play going on here. “Look, this is obviously a shakedown.”

The guard sighed, lowering her weapon. “Keep your voice down- do you want everyone to hear you? I’ll let you in, just wait a second.”

Relieved that there hadn’t been a scene, Robyn waited as she walked to the gate and unlocked it.

“Door’s open, head on in,” the guard said wearily, returning to her post.

Entering Windhelm had made Robyn nervous, simply because of the rumors they had heard about how elves were treated there- but going into Riften was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that all the buildings were made of a dark wood that, combined with the color of the walls, made the whole place look shadowy, even though the sun was out. Maybe it was the muscular Nord in steel armor glaring at them suspiciously from where he was leaning against the side of a house, his arms folded. Maybe it was a woman to their right talking in a low voice to her friend about how she’d had another run-in with something called the Thieves’ Guild. No matter what, this entire city was already giving Robyn a very bad feeling.

The feeling didn’t get any better as they walked cautiously past the Nord, only to come across a woman in strange leather armor standing on a bridge that crossed what seemed to be a canal that ran through the city, who was growling to a distraught-looking man that if he didn’t have her money by the end of the week, there would be “trouble.”

Robyn sighed and walked past them, but made sure their sword, as well as their arsenal of destruction spells, were ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. At the very least, the guards didn’t seem to recognize them- Walhart must not have thought it would be necessary to send word all the way to Riften.

The marketplace, at least, seemed innocent enough. There was a Dunmer woman selling food out of a wagon, another Dunmer advertising for general goods, a somewhat irritable-sounding Nord woman selling armor, and an Argonian jewelry artisan. 

But, of course, even that feeling of relative normalcy didn’t last as they heard a voice right next to them say, “Excuse me, if I may have a moment of your time?”

Robyn yelped, whirling around in surprise- they hadn’t heard anyone approach. Standing there with an odd smirk on his face was a skinny Breton man with bright red hair, dressed in the same armor as the woman they’d seen on the bridge and holding a half-eaten sweetroll in one hand.

“Can I help you?” they asked testily, already getting an idea of how exactly someone would learn how to walk up to a person without them noticing.

The man took a bite of his sweetroll before speaking, the sly look never leaving his face. “I couldn’t help but notice a new face in town... and you look perfect for a job I’ve got. My name’s Gaius- what’s yours?” He held out his unoccupied hand.

Hesitantly, they shook his hand. “Robyn. What kind of job, exactly, are you talking about?”

“Nice to meet you, Robyn,” Gaius said cordially, then lowered his voice, leaning towards them conspiratorially. “Now, you see the dark elf over there? His name’s Brand-Shei, and someone wants him put out of business- permanently. I’ve got a plan, but I could use an extra pair of hands-”

Robyn cut him off midsentence. “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I have no interest in whatever shady stuff is going on in this city. I’m just here to take care of some business, and then I’m going to leave.”

Gaius put up his hands defensively. “Well, all right. But if you’re ever looking to make some quick coin, come see me.”

With that, he took another bite of his sweetroll, turned around, and strolled away.

Robyn considered talking to one of the guards about what had just happened, but got the feeling that, given that the man had approached them in broad daylight and hadn’t seemed all that nervous about getting caught, the guards were in on… whatever was up with this city, as well. So, they just sighed and looked around for something to do.

Then, they spotted it- across another bridge on the other side of the marketplace was a building with a sign on the front that read “HONORHALL ORPHANAGE”.

Bingo.

\-------------

Honorhall Orphanage was a relatively small place- there was a dining room, a room with the children’s beds in it, a small bedroom for the orphanage caretaker, and not much else.

When Robyn entered the building, an Imperial woman with dark brown hair, wearing a simple yellow dress, came to greet them.

“Welcome to Honorhall Orphanage,” she said warmly, “My name is Constance Michel- I am the caretaker here now, as my predecessor… passed on recently. Have you come to discuss adopting one of the children here?”

One of said children could be seen peeking curiously around the corner, so Robyn decided to choose their words carefully.

“Actually, I’m here to enquire about the… incident you had here recently, involving your predecessor- Grelod, was it?” they said quietly.

Constance’s face turned grim. “There isn’t much to say about it. I’ve already told the guards everything I know.”

“Well… how should I put this,” Robyn said. “I have a sort of personal interest in catching the person responsible. Could you tell me what you witnessed, if anything?”

The woman sighed. “I suppose there would be no harm in it- especially if it leads to someone hunting down those murderers.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts, and then began her story.

“It was getting late in the day- the children had finished supper and Grelod was... lecturing them, as she tended to do. I heard the door open, but didn’t think much of it, except that it was odd for someone to visit the orphanage in the evening- or at all, really, given Grelod’s policies regarding adoption. Then, a man walked in- at least, I think it was a man, I couldn’t see much of him, because he was wearing a set of red and black robes, with a hood that covered his face almost entirely. I’d heard stories about people dressed like that- I knew immediately that he was from the Dark Brotherhood. I was so scared, I couldn’t move. He walked up to Grelod, and he said, ‘Hello, Grelod! I’ve been sent to kill you!’, almost… cheerfully. And then he held up his hand, and a sword just… appeared in it, it must have been magic, and then he- he killed her with it. The children all started cheering, and he took a bow, and then just strolled right out again.”

Robyn frowned. “And did anyone else in town see him? I mean, someone dressed like that would sort of stand out.”

“There was no one else who saw him,” Constance said, looking haunted. “It’s as if he just vanished.”

Robyn’s frown deepened. It wasn’t particularly odd for someone do supposedly “disappear,” but to be able to turn invisible for a long period of time required a rather impressive mastery of magic- even the best potions could barely manage to turn a person invisible for a minute. Whoever this man was, he was definitely dangerous.

“Well, thank you for your help, Ms. Michel. This can’t have been easy for you,” Robyn said sympathetically.

Constance sighed. “I never did like how Grelod treated the children, but… no one deserves to be murdered like that. I hope you can catch the man who did it- but be careful. They say there are rumors that the Dark Brotherhood is falling apart, but they’re still capable of terrible things.”

Robyn nodded. “I will. Take care, Ms. Michel- thank you again.”

Then they left the orphanage, worry filling their thoughts. A cloaked murderer, capable of killing someone without leaving a single useful clue… such a person couldn’t be allowed to walk free, but how would one even catch him? Not to mention that he was apparently a part of an entire group of trained assassins.

At that point, it was getting to be late in the day, so they went to the local inn, a place called the Bee and Barb, for dinner. It was quite refreshing to see that it was run by an Argonian couple, named Keerava and Talen-jei. They purchased a meal of slaughterfish steak and mead from a brand called Black Briar that seemed to be local, and also rented a room for the night.

After they finished eating, they decided to go out and check to see if An’nha had arrived yet. Sure enough, she had- they were honestly quite impressed with the speed with which the Khajit managed to get around Skyrim.

Chrom’s letter, as they had expected, carried a rather alarmed tone.

“Robyn-  
I appreciate you taking your mission so seriously, but I would feel a lot less anxious if you finished up in Riften as quickly as possible and returned to Solitude. We still don’t entirely know what we’re dealing with, and I don’t want you to end up captured or worse because of my lack of foresight.  
I am impressed that you seemed to have no trouble finding the leader of the Windhelm resistance group- we will have to start correspondance with them immediately. I’m also curious as to what you found out about how Sully is doing. I know she’s quite capable of protecting herself, but it would be nice to know for sure.  
As for what to do in Riften- I don’t have many specific ideas, mainly because there wasn’t a lot that went on in Riften that wasn’t trouble even before the rebellion. Go ahead and discreetly take a look around the Keep, see if you can learn anything about the movements or numbers of Walhart’s troops, et cetera. A word of warning, though- the Thieves’ Guild is, obviously, trouble, as is Maven Black-Briar, who owns the Black-Briar meadery. When we had control of Riften, Emm was almost positive that they were in cahoots with each other, but we could never find any evidence.  
Best of luck, and get back here as soon as you possibly can.  
-Chrom”

Pocketing the letter, Robyn straightened up from where they’d leaned against a tree to read it. They were about to head back towards the gates when they heard someone running up behind them.

“Excuse me, are you Robyn?” asked a man in a messenger’s hat.

Bewildered, Robyn nodded. “That’s me. Why?”

“I’ve got a letter to deliver- your eyes only. Here,” he said, and handed them a folded piece of parchment. They took it, brow furrowing.

“Who is this from?” they asked the man, but he just shrugged.

“I dunno. He was a creepy fella, in a black robe- I couldn’t see his face. Paid me a pretty sum to get that into your hands, though. Well, looks like that’s it- got to go!”

With that, the messenger dashed off again, leaving Robyn to process what he’d just said. It couldn’t be… could it?

Warily, they unfolded the letter.

On the paper in black ink was a handprint. Written underneath it were two words:

"We know."

Robyn's blood ran cold. The Dark Brotherhood knew that they'd been asking questions. But... why send a letter? Why not just kill them? They weren't sure they liked any of the possible answers to that question.

Trying to remain calm, they decided the best idea would be to go back into the city, preferably to someplace with a lot of people in it- and the Bee and Barb sounded perfect for that. So, they hurriedly made their way back to the inn, and then went up to the room they'd rented.

As they sat down on the bed, the lateness of the hour as well as their long trek to Riften suddenly caught up to them. Yawning, they decided that if the Dark Brotherhood really was after them, forcing themself to stay awake would only make them less fit to defend themself if they were attacked- and, on a less pleasant note, if one of them had managed to kill someone here before without being spotted by a single guard, it wouldn't make much difference what Robyn did, if they were indeed next on the kill list.

So, they lay down on their bed, and soon fell asleep.

That's not where they found themself when they woke up, however.


	9. With Friends Like These...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robyn has a dangerously close encounter with the Dark Brotherhood, but then finally makes it back to Solitude, and starts getting down to business as head tactician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The formatting on this chapter might look a little weird, because I had to use a different posting method in order to get all the italics to show up.

Robyn came to their senses slowly, wondering why their bed at the Bee and Barb seemed so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Had they fallen onto the floor? That would explain why their head hurt, too.

Opening their eyes, however, revealed that they were lying facedown on a dirty wood floor, and definitely not in the inn anymore. Doing their best to ignore the pain in their head, they struggled to their feet, finding that, at the very least, they still had their weapons and knapsack.

"Good morning!" said a cheerful voice from somewhere above them.

Robyn looked up to where the voice had come from. There, sitting casually on the top of a bookcase in the corner, was a man in a red and black robe with a handprint painted on the front, with a black hood that covered all of his face but his nose and his mouth, which was quirked up in a grin. Robyn's eyes widened, alarmed- he was a perfect match of the description Constance had given them of Grelod'a killer.

"Who are you, and what do you want from me?" Robyn asked, fighting to keep their voice level. As they spoke, they quickly studied their surroundings- it was a small wooden shack, old but well-kept enough that it seemed relatively structurally sound. The only light in the room was a small lantern on a table to their right.

The man chuckled. "Does it matter? You're warm, dry, and still very much alive- which is more than can be said for old Grelod, hm?"

Robyn frowned. "All right, so if that's what this is about, why haven't you just killed me?"

The man's grin widened. "Well, where would the fun be in that? I thought I'd give you a chance, first."

"A chance to do what, explain why I've been trying to track down a cult of murderers? I thought that would be fairly obvious," Robyn said derisively.

"Well, seeing as how the skeleton of the last person who tried to find our Sanctuary is now rotting inside of it, that's not really what I'm concerned about," the man chuckled. "Allow me to introduce myself- my name is Henry, and I am... a representative, let's say, of the Dark Brotherhood, which I'm sure you've already gathered."

"You still haven't explained why you've locked me in this shack," Robyn prodded, now feeling more impatient than alarmed.

"All right, geez, I was getting to that," Henry grumbled. "See, while I was out and about in Skyrim, both to handle the Aretino contract and to make sure the mysterious stranger who'd been sniffing around in our business didn't get any ideas, I got to see said mysterious stranger in action. And my Family agreed that we could use someone with your talents. So, we have a proposition."

_This should be good_ , Robyn thought.

"If you turn around, you'll see three people that I've... collected, from various places. You can prove yourself by killing one or more of them, and live... or you can die." Henry grinned wickedly at that.

Warily, Robyn turned around to find that, indeed, there were three people kneeling on the floor behind them, with their heads covered with black cloth bags and their wrists and ankles tied. Gritting their teeth, they turned back to face the assassin.

"You know what, I think I'll take my chances," they snarled, readying a lighting bolt in each hand.

Henry didn't stop grinning- he just raised his hands. Suddenly, there was a massive crackling of energy on either side of them as he summoned two storm atronachs, which cast an eerie glow in the darkened cabin.

"Go ahead, if you feel like being torn apart," Henry cackled.

Robyn swallowed hard and deactivated the spells they had been about to cast. They were a formidable mage, themself, but it took an incredible mastery of conjuration to summon two powerful dremora like that simultaneously.

As they stood there, facing down the smirking mage, they suddenly remembered Emmeryn- calm and composed even as she faced down an enemy she couldn't hope to beat. And they realized what she would have done in this situation.

"Go ahead and kill me, then," they said, their voice shaking but resolute.

For the first time, Henry's smile faltered. "What, seriously?" he said incredulously.

"You heard me. I'm not going to kill these people."

Henry's grin returned again. "Gods, you're a real goody two-shoes, aren't you? Ah well," he said, hopping down from the bookshelf, "Guess I'll have to keep my promise, then."

Well, I guess this is it, Robyn thought as he strode towards them, conjuring a sword in his hand, Two weeks of life that I can actually remember, and that's all I get. Great.

Now standing just a couple of feet away from them, Henry threw back his hood with his free hand, revealing Breton features, pale gray eyes, and shoulder-length white hair.

"I'd ask if you had any last words, but I've pretty much heard everything by now," he remarked casually, as if he wasn't about to slit their throat.

Without further preamble, he raised the sword to strike. Robyn braced themself, closing their eyes.

But then… nothing happened.

Confused, Robyn cracked an eye open, to see Henry looking like he was struggling not to laugh. Upon noticing them looking at him, he lost control entirely, laughing so hard he almost seemed to be having trouble breathing.

“Oh, gods, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” he cackled, gasping for breath. “You thought I was actually gonna kill you!”

Robyn, meanwhile, was grappling with multiple conflicting emotions- namely, sheer relief at not actually being about to die, and incredible irritation at being fooled. As Henry continued giggling, anger won out.

“So, now that you’ve had your fun scaring the shit out of me, are you gonna let me and these people go now?” they asked tersely.

Henry finally composed himself, straightening, and Robyn noticed for the first time that he was actually a bit shorter than them- now that he wasn’t actively a threat, the assassin actually looked relatively harmless. Looks could certainly be decieving.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said offhandedly, rummaging in his pocket. He pulled out a small iron key, and handed it to them. As they took it, however, his expression abruptly turned dark. “Just don’t go sticking your nose in the Brotherhood’s business again, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the message,” Robyn sighed, taking the key.

And just like that, his seemingly ever-present grin returned. “Great! Now hurry along, I’ve got a contact to meet, and getting there’s gonna be quite a trek.”

Rolling their eyes (although they weren’t sure they were directing the gesture at themself or Henry), Robyn set to freeing the three prisoners, who turned out to be a Nord mercenary, a somewhat abrasive Nord woman, and a sleazy-looking Khajit. They ushered them hurriedly out the door, then exited themself, finding themself… in the swamps south of Solitude.

_Well, that certainly makes my life easier_ , they thought wryly. They handed the prisoners fifty gold each, enough to take a carriage to pretty much anywhere, and then started the short walk back to Solitude.

\-------------

Chrom sighed, struggling to resist the urge to drum his fingers impatiently on the arm of his throne as he listened to a report from a representative from the nearby nearby town of Dragon Bridge.

“I swear to you, unnatural magics are coming from that cave! There are strange noises and lights!” the man insisted hysterically. “We need someone to investigate!”

“Calm yourself, Varnius,” Chrom said, trying to think of how to handle the situation without being either overly cautious or not careful enough. This could just be superstition making people see bandit or animal attacks as something more than they actually were, but Wolfskull Cave did have a rather sinister reputation.

Finally, he came to a decision and turned to his housecarl. “Frederick, tell Captain Aldis I said to assign a few extra soldiers to Dragon Bridge.”

Frederick nodded, immediately taking out his quill and parchment to write out a note to be sent to the guard captain. Varnius still seemed uneasy, however.

“Thank you, Jarl Chrom,” he said, “But about the cave…”

Chrom sighed. “I will have someone investigate the cave as well, Varnius. You can rest easy. You’re dismissed.”

Seemingly mollified, Varnius bowed, and left the room. Chrom frowned and sat back, trying to think of who he could send to clear out the cave. He’d heard there was a particularly brash new mercenary in town- maybe he could hire him. As he sat there pondering, his thoughts returned to another worry that had been plaguing him- he had expected An’nha to arrive any time that morning with word from Robyn, but she hadn’t showed up yet.

He didn’t worry much longer, however, as Stahl came running up the stairs, shouting, “My Jarl! Robyn is here!”

Chrom was up from his seat in seconds. “Really? Where?”

“They’re walking up the path to the Palace right now- they should be here any second.”

Sure enough, less than a minute later, in came Robyn, looking a little dusty but otherwise perfectly intact. “Hello, Jarl!” they greeted him casually, slipping their knapsack off and onto the floor, rolling their shoulder to get the stiffness out.

Chrom hurried over to them, anxious to verify that they really were unharmed. “Gods, Robyn, you had me so worried- why didn’t you send a letter from Riften to say you were coming back?”

Robyn cracked a wry smile. “Well… it’s a really, really long story. To save me some time, can we get Lissa and Ricken and whoever else in here first, so I don’t have to repeat it five times?”

“Way ahead of you!” exclaimed Lissa, emerging from downstairs, with Ricken and Kellam in tow.

And so, Chrom closed court for the afternoon, and led the small entourage into the newly renovated Pelagius Wing, to introduce Robyn to Flavia and Basilio, and so they could hear the story as well.

“What’s all the commotion?” Basilio hollered, emerging from the hallway, as Flavia curiously eyed the group that had just barged in, from her perch on a barstool in the front room.

“Robyn’s back!” Lissa crowed, pointing to the elf, who smiled hesitantly at the Redguards. Lon’qu, Raimi, and Olivia filed in as well as Chrom made introductions.

“Robyn, this is Flavia, and that’s Basilio- they’re the diplomats from Hammerfell I wrote to you about,” he said, motioning to each of them in turn. “That’s Olivia, their dancer, and then there’s Lon’qu and Raimi, their guards. Everyone, this is Robyn- I sent them to scout out the holds Walhart’s taken over, and they just got back.”

A lot of hand shaking and “nice to meet you”-’s followed. Then, everyone settled in at the various tables in the room to hear Robyn recount their entire journey.

Telling the story in full while strategically leaving out details here and there was a necessary challenge- after all, Robyn got the feeling that Libra would not appreciate it if he found out that they had let slip his darkest secret to just about the entire court of Solitude. They weren't entirely sure how to handle the part where they'd gotten into a fistfight with the patriarch of one of the two most influential families in Windhelm, but Chrom, at least, seemed gratified that their hurried flight from the place had been for a good reason- and a good cause, as everyone agreed.

When they described the situation at Narzulbur, Chrom didn't look surprised at all. "Sully never did seem the type to play housewife," he chuckled. "Or to marry a man at all, to be honest."

That remark earned a laugh from Flavia, especially. "This woman sounds like someone I'd like to meet," she remarked.

The rest of their story, starting with their arrival in Riften, earned increasingly concerned expressions from Chrom and Lissa, as well as mild confusion from the Redguards.

"Hold up... the Dark Brotherhood?" Basilio said, sounding confused. "I thought they'd all died out a long time ago."

"Well, maybe in Hammerfell they did, but they seem to be doing all right here," said Robyn dryly.

Chrom hummed pensively. "Reports of Dark Brotherhood activity have always been sketchy at best here, although they've been prevalent enough to lead me to believe that they really do still exist, in some measure. Where they're holed up, of course, I have no idea, but at least Robyn's little... encounter has given us some new clues."

"Yeah, and almost got them killed!" Lissa protested. "There's a reason why nobody's ever tried to wipe out the Dark Brotherhood once and for all, Chrom."

"To be honest, I wasn't really concerned with killing them," Robyn cut in before Chrom could argue. "My main thought was to see if there was any way to negotiate immunity from assassination for at least Chrom and Lissa- ever since I heard about the Dark Brotherhood, the possibility of someone taking out a contract on either of you has made me nervous."

Chrom's eyebrows went up at that. "That's... an interesting way to prioritize things. But to be honest, I'm not particularly concerned, myself."

Robyn frowned. "And why is that, exactly?"

"Oh right, I forgot that you're still not quite up to speed with everything here," Chrom said, then grinned a little. "See, the general rule of thumb is, the higher-profile the assassination, the more expensive it is. That's why most of the Dark Brotherhood's contracts are on relatively average people who just happened to get on the bad side of someone with questionable morals. The only people with the coin to get either of us killed who might actually want to do it are, most likely, Nords- a race widely known for the degree to which they value honor and prowess in battle, and despise sneaking and dishonesty. Do you get where I'm going with this?"

"Ohhh," said Robyn, realization dawning on them. "They'd never hire an assassin to kill either of you because they'd want to do it themselves, in fair combat."

"Exactly," Chrom said, a little smugly.

"Troll's blood, Chrom, maybe you should be the one in charge of the army," Basilio remarked, amazed.

Robyn snorted. “I said the same thing myself, once.”

“The fact remains that they are a menace to society, however,” said Frederick siffly.

“Well, if an opportunity to wipe them out ever arises, we certainly will, but for the moment, there’s too much risk and uncertainty involved,” Chrom said. “Also, there are bigger, more obvious threats to deal with right now.”

“Speaking of which, now that I’m back, what’s the plan?” said Robyn, fiddling absently with their ring.

“Well,” said Chrom, turning towards them, “You are the military commander now. If you’re feeling up for it, I’d say it’s your turn to call the shots, strategically.”

Robyn seemed a little taken aback, but their face soon set in a determined smile. “Well, I’d better get started, then.”

\-------------

A few hours and a lot of running around Castle Dour later, Robyn was all set up in their strategy room, with several maps and stacks of military reports in front of them. Missives from the western holds from the time of Walhart’s initial attack were all generally the same-

“Group of soldiers calling themselves ‘Nordhearts’ arrived at the gate today, asking for the jarl’s support in ‘reclaiming the Nord way of life.’ When we were informed that their leader, Jarl Walhart of Windhelm, had assassinated High Queen Emmeryn, they were turned away. Requesting extra military assistance from Solitude.”

However, one report in particular caught Robyn’s attention- Whiterun, a hold almost exactly in the middle of Skyrim, had reported the same incident, but had not declared any allegiance to either side of the conflict. The records even showed that the Jarl had refused to allow Solitude soldiers to set up a small base of operations in Dragonsreach, the hold’s main government building. It seemed that the Jarl was determined that the hold remain neutral, despite tremendous pressure from both sides.

Frowning, Robyn set down the stack of reports from Whiterun, turning to Lissa, who had volunteered to help them get settled. “Hey, are there any older reports that could give us a clue of exactly what this Balgruuf guy is playing at? Refusing military assistance in a conflict like this is practically asking to get forcibly kicked off of your throne, or worse.”

“Oh yeah, we’ve got dossiers on pretty much every political figure in Skyrim!” Lissa said brightly. “You want me to get them for you?”

“Yes please,” Robyn replied eagerly, already working on clearing space on the table.

Lissa darted out of the room, and returned a couple of minutes later, having evidently enlisted Kellam’s help in bringing in two large stacks of slim brown booklets (although Robyn was embarassed to realize that they couldn’t remember if he’d already been in the room with them before). Blessedly, the dossiers were alphabetized, and right in between “Aslfur Ravencrone” and “Brina Merilis,” they found “Balgruuf the Greater.” Sliding it carefully from the stack, Robyn began flipping through it.

“Direct descendant of Olaf One-Eye… served six years in the Solitude guard…” they read aloud, scanning avidly. “Known to have associated- oh! I think I’ve got it!”

“What? What is it?” Lissa said excitedly.

“It says here that he and Walhart served in the Solitude guard at the same time, and that they were apparently friendly rivals,” Robyn said, re-reading the page in question. “Also… oh jeez. ‘When the White-Gold Concordat was signed, it is believed that he was bribed into accepting the terms, and would likely have otherwise refused.’ And that’s… the ceasefire treaty that ended the war with the Aldmeri Dominion, right?”

Lissa nodded, looking confused. “So why hasn’t he sided with Walhart, given all that stuff?”

“That’s what I’m wondering, as well,” Robyn said pensively. “Well, whatever’s going on here, it’s not looking good- what reports we have from the far east indicate a decrease in Nordheart troop activity, which means they might be consolidating in preparation for an attack.”

“Well… why don’t we just tell him that, then?” Lissa suggested. “If he knew they were going to attack him, he’d have to side with us, right?”

Robyn shook their head. “I don’t think the attack is a certainty yet- Walhart is probably going to try one last push to get Whiterun on his side without bloodshed, since he knows Balgruuf. But since his policy otherwise seems to have been ‘if they’re not with us, they’re against us’... if Balgruuf refuses to pick a side and hasn’t been warned, it’d be a bloodbath.”

The tactician sighed and sat back in their chair, thinking hard. Lissa, meanwhile, picked up the most recent reports from Whiterun and rifled through them. “Well geez, there’s been all kinds of weird things happening there anyway,” she remarked, her brow furrowing. “Giant attacks, Ali’kr warriors searching for a fugitive, and some poor farming couple getting murdered, all in the past month.”

Suddenly, Robyn sat up and clapped their hands, looking inspired. “I’ve got it- we’ll send word to our contacts in Dawnstar and Windhelm to be on the lookout for the movements of Walhart’s troops, and as soon as we get definitive proof that there’s an attack in the works, we’ll send a small squad to Whiterun with some of what we know- that way, Balgruuf will know it’s serious, and it will negate any possibility of Walhart catching him completely off-guard.”

Lissa hopped up immediately to grab a quill and several pieces of parchment, and soon Robyn set about writing their first missives as head tactician of the Solitude army.

\-------------

_20th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 201_

_By Sithis, I’ve missed being allowed to kill people. Sure, it’s an honor to be Keeper and all that, but I about lost it, spending all that time in Cheydinhal with nothing to do._

_Astrid sent me off on my first major assassination in Skyrim the other day- a girl named Muiri wanted an ex-lover of hers killed, and asked me if I could kill a lady in Windhelm on the side. Killing the man was easy enough- just about any amount of bandits will fall if you send enough atronachs at them. Taking out Nilsine, though… it was a challenge, but an entertaining one. I managed to get up on a rooftop and snipe her with a crossbow I took off one of those Dawnguard types a bit ago- it was a beautiful shot, if I do say so myself. It may be colder than the godsdamn Void here, but blood does look quite pretty on the snow. I have to wonder, though- who killed her twin sister? It certainly wasn’t one of us._

_I’d better go now- Astrid said she wanted help with something “of a personal nature.” This should be good._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and critiques are welcome, but please keep in mind that a. this is my first time posting anything I've written online, and b. I wrote and posted this entirely on mobile, so there might be some weird mistakes in here I didn't catch.


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